


PRELUDE - AND ANSWER

by rhiannon15900



Category: The Professionals
Genre: AU, M/M, World War II, non-explicit reference to child abuse (sexual and physical)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1783597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiannon15900/pseuds/rhiannon15900
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie, a soldier, takes on a ward...</p>
            </blockquote>





	PRELUDE - AND ANSWER

**Author's Note:**

> This story is by the author Rhiannon of Larton fame, who isn't on line; it's posted with her enthusiastic consent.
> 
> I'll pass on any comments/kudos to her.  
> Hgdoghouse

Captain William Bodie just managed to preserve a neutral expression - to be summoned from what had promised to be an enjoyable and much needed leave only to be informed by his pompous windbag of an uncle that they wished him to become the guardian of the family black sheep - it was enough to try the most patient of men!

"So as you can see, William," his uncle's voice droned inexorably on, "it was imperative to remove Mavis' boy at once!" He shook his head, as if shuddering at the mere thought. "A most unsuitable environment, people just living together - and worse," he added darkly.

"Oh," said Bodie, raising an eyebrow. "In what way?"

"Harumph," said his uncle, clearing his throat. "Foreign ways. You know!" he said finally, half-suspicious that young William was baiting him. "Anyway, it was my clear duty to see the boy had the chance of a better life. I sent him to a good school - he ran away. Several times. He made no attempt to fit in with the other boys, had no team spirit. Couldn't get on with people - was always fighting. And his school work was most unsatisfactory. Boy's practically illiterate! Finally, when he ran away again, he stole."

Bodie frowned at this turn in the conversation: this was much more serious. "What did he steal?"

"A meat pie from a market stall and a bottle of milk from a doorstep."

The frown disappeared. "Poor little tyke was probably hungry."

"William!" His uncle took an exasperated breath, remembering why he had sent for his nephew. "Don't be facetious," he said, before getting back to the point of his story. "I thought to myself, what he needs is a good dose of discipline so I sent him to Sandersons. You were there for a time, weren't you?"

"Yes," said Bodie with feeling. "Hell of a place. How did he do there?"

"Even worse than before. Expelled for gross insubordination. No idea of rules and regulations. So I decided that perhaps he needed the atmosphere of a good home, a stable background. Brought him here, to my own home. He was insolent to me and then, when your cousin Clive was joshing him a little - the way lads do - he struck him with a flat iron."

"Did he now?" said Bodie with interest. Clive was six foot two in his always immaculate socks. "Big lad is he?"

"Heavens, no, a skinny runt. Has a terrible temper and no self-control. So we tried him with other members of the family. It was no better. He ran away again and was picked up by the police. Ended up in the reformatory before we could trace him. When I think that a member of our family could fall so low as to end up in a place of that kind!" He took a calming breath. "They have said they will release him if a member of the family will take responsibility for him and, quite frankly, you're his last hope! No one else will take him on. He'll have to stay there and doubtless will end up in Dartmoor if not hung, the way he is going on! 

"You've always had a way with lame dogs," continued his uncle, more calmly. "You do still have that place in the country, don't you? It would be well away from temptation. Of course, if he's too much and you can't straighten him out, he'll just have to be sent back to the reformatory. You might be able to use that as a threat to keep him in line."

Bodie ignored that last remark. One thing he did not need in his life at the moment, or at any other time come to that, was an unruly teenage ruffian - but he felt a certain sympathy for the boy, having himself survived a short stay at Sandersons, and he had a very poor opinion of cousin Clive. Despite himself, he felt some sympathy with, and curiosity about, this intrepid youth. He appeared to be considering the matter. "I'll take him on one understanding."

"Mmm?"

"He's my responsibility and the family will not interfere in any way whatsoever," said Bodie determinedly.

"Good, thought you would!" He was so relieved to be rid of the troublesome boy that he would have agreed to anything. He couldn't see anyone wanting to interfere anyway - except to give the lad a clip around the ear! "Still got that old tabby Mrs. Atkins keeping house for you?" asked uncle conversationally. "What does she find to do down there, quiet as a churchyard as I remember."

"I believe she's writing a life and times of Oscar Wilde," said Bodie.

"Oh." Remembering what Oscar Wilde was famous for, besides writing nonsense, uncle dropped that matter and got on to a much more important subject. His demeanour became that of a genuinely concerned older person. "William, I've been meaning to have a word with you for sometime now about your career. You really ought to consider transferring to a more fashionable part of the service or you'll find yourself spending your whole life in backward hill stations. As you know, I have some influence, I could have a word with Clive and Edwin's commanding officer."

"No, thank you," said Bodie firmly. "I think I'd find it rather difficult serving with Edwin and Clive."

"Nonsense! They'd welcome you, I'm sure."

"That wasn't my reason for declining," said Bodie.

His uncle eyed him suspiciously. "You know William, that sense of humour of yours could have a detrimental effect on your Army career."

"Yes, sir," said Bodie, without interest, but also without animosity. The old buffer couldn't help trying to interfere, best thing to do was ignore him.

Just then Clive strolled languidly into the room, boredom written in every line. Seeing Bodie, he brightened up. "Ah, William. Still out there battling with the savages I suppose."

"Yes," agreed Bodie. "Still wearing yourself out with ceremonial parades and the mad Mayfair whirl?"

"William," said his uncle, hurriedly interrupting, "is taking Raymond off our hands."

"Good," said Clive with feeling. "The little turd. You heard what he did to me? I had to have five stitches put in!" Bodie remained unmoved. "When Edwin tried to restrain him, he bit his hand to the bone."

Bodie, whose opinion of Edwin was even lower, felt Raymond was to be congratulated, but he kept the opinion to himself. "Well, I'd better be off. I'll go and collect Raymond from the reformatory. You have the address?"

His uncle pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it over. "No need to go right away, William. Do him no harm to stay there a bit longer, you can spend some time here. We don't see much of you."

"No," refused Bodie easily. "I don't want to waste any more of my leave." With that, he departed, not for the first time leaving his uncle open-mouthed.

"I put it down to his father being Irish," he said finally.

oOo

Bodie looked around the room, it was unpleasantly reminiscent of Sandersons: the same gravy-browning and beige painted walls, hung with depressing texts of an improving nature; and the same all-pervading smell of Jeyes fluid, boiled cabbage and carbolic soap. Outside, the crash of heavily booted feet went up and down a stone staircase unceasingly: punishment drill - or were they breaking in a treadmill? So this was a reformatory.

Looking around him, he wondered what Mavis' son would be like. He remembered her from family pictures as a fluffily pretty blonde - with huge green eyes, his mother had said. He could remember his parents talking about her on one occasion. 

"Woman's got no sense," his father had barked. "Taking up with a bounder like that. Remember me telling you I saw them in the village, shouting at the child, he was. Went over and gave him a piece of my mind, not that I supposed it did much good. Boy looked in need of a good meal. Not still with that rotter, is she?"

"No," his mother had answered. "She settled down with..." 

He had never found out who, since his mother had noticed him at that point and sent him to bed. He smiled at the memory. One of his reasons for taking on young Raymond was his memory of suddenly being orphaned himself at the age of fifteen and dreading the thought of having to go and live with his uncle and cousins. Thank God the Pritchards had taken him in at Plas.

The door opened and the governor entered. "Captain Bodie, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I've brought Doyle's file for you to look over. It makes disgraceful reading. I would like to have kept him here longer and knocked some sense into him. He's in need of some strong discipline. A spell in the army would do him good."

Bodie looked through the file, wondering what the Army had done to deserve Raymond Doyle. He appeared to be completely unamenable to rules and regulations: the list of punishments administered to him was formidable. If no sense had yet been knocked into Doyle R., it hadn't been for the want of trying, he though wryly.

"But as you are taking responsibility," went on the governor. He was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Ah, here they are now."

A man entered, pushing in front of him a small, skinny youth. Bodie looked him over. His hair had been cropped almost to the scalp; heavy scarring disfigured one cheek, while his hands hung, red and raw looking, on the end of pipe-cleaner arms.

This shrimp has assaulted the immaculate Clive! Bodie was quite impressed.

A pair of resentful green eyes glared with impartial animosity at each of them.

"Doyle!" snapped the governor. "Take that expression off your face. I will not stand for any more of your damned insolence." He rapped his stick sharply on the desk but Doyle's expression did not alter, he just stared at the spot over the governor's head.

"You are being released into the custody of Captain Bodie here, I trust he will not have cause to regret his kindness." He turned to Bodie. "You see, Captain, a totally undeserving lout."

Bodie arose. "Thank you, Mr. Frobisher. We will go now. You have your belongings, Doyle?"

Doyle indicated a small brown paper carrier bag.

"Is that all?" asked Bodie, surprised.

"Naw," said Doyle. "A steamer trunk with my bloody polo things will be following." He eyed Bodie up and down disrespectfully.

Bodie raised an eyebrow. "I see," he said. "Come on then."

Once they were outside the main building Doyle turned with an audible sigh of relief and made an extremely obscene gesture at the building.

"Feel better now?" asked Bodie politely.

Doyle looked at him. "Who the hell are you anyway? I don't need any bloody guarding, so you can go back to the bloody army." He turned to walk away but his arm was grasped firmly.

"It isn't going to be like that, Doyle." said Bodie calmly. "Like it or not, you're stuck with me until you are of age. Make your mind up - with me, or back in here."

"All right," agreed Doyle unwillingly. He thought of running away but suspected he wouldn't get very far. So, for now, he'd toe the line.

"Good. We understand each other. There's the car."

"Where are we going then?"

"To my home in the country, near Amersham." He took a look at Doyle. "You look as if you could do with some fresh air," he added, noting Doyle's pallid appearance. The boy was shivering as the cold air cut through the worn clothes; they were extremely ill-fitting. "We'll stop and get you a coat on the way back." He got into the car, Doyle sliding into the passenger seat.

"How fast will it go?" asked Doyle, curiosity getting the better of resentment.

"Fast enough. Have you eaten today?"

"Naw. Punishment drill, just bread and water at suppertime."

"No wonder you're a bag of bones! We'll stop on the way, it'll be late by the time we get home."

Doyle was silent during the journey, his attention held by the passing countryside. After a while he relaxed and settling back, he studied his companion. When they had told him a Captain Bodie would be collecting him he had imagined an elderly colleague of his uncle. While, to Doyle's teenage eyes, Bodie wasn't young, he was hardly in his uncle's age group either. Neither did he bear any resemblance to the appalling Edwin and Clive.

"You been abroad somewhere?" Doyle asked, looking at Bodie's sunburned face.

"India."

It would not be wise, Doyle decided, to try and hit this man with a flat iron.

They drove into a small market town and Bodie parked the car just off the market square. "This looks a good enough place. We'll buy you a coat here, then see about a meal."

Doyle, who was beginning by now to wonder if it was all a dream, found himself in possession of a warm navy coat and he snuggled down happily in the folds. Next they went for a meal at the local Inn. It was as they were eating that Bodie noticed that Doyle's hands seemed to be troubling him.

"What happened to them?" he asked matter of factly.

Doyle replied in a similar manner. "Scrubbing out. It's the soda, gets into them and cracks the skin."

"I'll put some ointment on them tonight," promised Bodie, hiding his anger.

 

It was quite dark when they passed through a small village.

"Hellens is just over this hill," said Bodie. "You'll be able to see the lights in a moment. There they are."

Doyle forced his eyes open. He was quite sure now it was all a dream and he would shortly wake up back in the reformatory dormitory. He didn't want that to happen, how long could he stay asleep?

They turned into a driveway and drew up outside the house. The door was open and an elderly lady was looking out.

"I heard the car," she said ushering them inside.

They went through the porch and into the hall. The house felt warm and welcoming and smelt pleasant. Lavender, thought Doyle.

"So this is Mavis' boy," said the lady. "Take your coat off, and come in to the fire." She looked up at Bodie. "He looks tired."

Doyle followed her, hearing Bodie's voice behind him. "Yes, this is Raymond. He needs feeding up."

"We'll soon put that right. Now sit by the fire," she ordered, "and I'll get you some soup."

She was back within a few minutes with two bowls of soup and some bread rolls set out on a tray. "Here you are, eat it up."

Bodie settled to his with alacrity. "We ate on the way, not as good as this though." He polished off a bread roll. "Where are you going to put him?"

"I think the room over the back garden," she said, smiling at Doyle. "It's small but it's a bright, pleasant room. I think he'll be very comfortable there." She turned her attention back from the boy to let him eat in peace. "How was London, has it changed much?"

"Yes, and for the worse. All pink gin and flappers. Traffic's getting bad too, was glad to leave the place - heard a few good concerts though."

Doyle's ears pricked up for a moment, then he felt his eyes starting to shut again.

A hand grabbed the soup bowl as he fell asleep over it. "Better get you to bed," said Bodie. "Come on."

Doyle, half asleep, slowly climbed the stairs. He was too tired to notice much but the house still felt warm, and it smelt good.

Bodie snapped on the light in a bright, airy room, "Here you are, the bathroom is right across the landing. I see Alice has left you some towels, have you any night clothes?"

"No," said Doyle. "Only had what they issued me at the reformatory."

"You'd better have some of mine for tonight, or until we can get you kitted out." Bodie went out, returning with a pair of pyjamas. "They'll be a bit big." He saw Doyle was bending over the bedside table, settling a small photoframe. Intrigued, he went to touch it.

"Don't!" said Doyle, then stood tensed, waiting for the storm.

"It's been badly cracked hasn't it? You can get a new frame if you want to when we go into town to get your clothes. Now, get washed and into bed." Bodie paused at door. "Goodnight, Ray."

"Goodnight." He had expected the Captain to stay and see his orders were carried out but he hadn't. Going to the bathroom Doyle reveled in the warm water, then carefully dried his smarting hands. He was just settling into bed when there was a knock on his door. He looked at it wide-eyed for a moment, before calling "Come in."

Bodie entered with a jar of ointment and some white cotton gloves. "Nearly forgot about your hands," he remarked. "Let's have them."

Doyle extended a smarting hand.

"They do look painful but this will soon get them right." Bodie smiled at Doyle as he gently applied the ointment. "Now if you get these gloves on, you won't get that stuff all over the place. Good lad. Now get some sleep."

When he had gone, Doyle lay awake. I won't, he thought, if I do I might wake up back there after all. But it was no good, he was soon asleep.

oOo

When Doyle awoke, light was streaming into the room. He got out of bed and went to the window, drawing aside the light curtains. The garden stretched down to an orchard and beyond that were fields with woods in the far distance. He opened the window and sniffed at the morning air: it smelt wonderful, not a bit like carbolic and boiled cabbage.

A large, important-looking black cat was crossing the lawn; Bodie appeared, coming up the garden, carrying an armful of rhubarb. He was wearing a pair of old khaki trousers and a very worn jersey. Seeing him, the cat rushed over and began to twine around his legs. Impeded in his progress, he looked up and saw Ray leaning out of the window.

"So you're awake at last. Your breakfast is waiting for you. We'd begun to think you would sleep the clock around!"

Doyle washed and dressed hurriedly and went downstairs.

The lady greeted him with a plate of ham and eggs. "You look better for a good sleep," she remarked, shepherding him to the breakfast table.

Doyle began to eat, looking out of the window.

"You can go and eat outside if you like. There's a table just by the window."

Bodie and the cat walked over to him, the cat giving voice to a plaintive miaou.

"Don't believe a word Kitchener tells you. He's had a huge breakfast this morning," said Bodie.

"The lady," Doyle asked, "is she your mother?"

Bodie blinked. "Didn't realise I hadn't told you. That's my Aunt Alice, she looks after everything for me. Best cook in the country." He hefted the rhubarb he still held. "Better take this in to her. Don't feed that cat, you need it more than he does!"

Alice looked down at the rhubarb without enthusiasm. "Pity it's doing so well this year, William. We still have jars of rhubarb chutney left over from last year."

"Why not set up a stall and sell it at the gate?" suggested Bodie.

"William!" She thought about it. "No, I dare not, unfortunately. Now, about Raymond's clothes, is that all he has to wear?"

"Apart from a set of underclothes in very poor condition, yes."

"Well, you'll just have to take him into Amersham and get him some. I'll measure him first, then write down what he's likely to need. What he's wearing now must have been intended for a much bigger boy. He isn't likely to grow any taller but I hope he'll fill out a bit, he's so pale and thin - and that mark on his face. He'd be a good looking lad if it wasn't for that."

"Would he?" asked Bodie, surprised. "Yes, I suppose he would - though without that sullen expression."

"I think that will go in time." She was distracted by the cat. "Look at Kitchener. He's had Ray's breakfast!" She glared out of the window at the stout black cat, now carefully cleaning bacon fat off his whiskers.

"I did warn him," said Bodie. He returned to the subject of Ray's disfigured cheek. "According to the report, he fell down stairs and injured his face. I'm not inclined to believe it. He's a constant runaway - well, I'd have run away from Sandersons if my father hadn't moved me. He's also stolen food when running away. He's almost totally uneducated according to the file."

"I'd better find out what that means, in terms of general education," said Alice.

"Right, I'll leave that to you. I'd better get changed and drive into Amersham with him. Better give me the shopping list, too, and I'll call in at Cranfords about the piano, save making another trip later in the week."

 

"Stand still, will you," commanded Bodie with exasperation. "Wish I'd brought Alice with us," he muttered. Getting Doyle outfitted was proving a difficult job. Lengthways was fine, but everything hung on him with enough room for another.

To Bodie (whose clothes-buying experiences had largely been confined to picking up his kit from the stores, getting his dress uniform taken in or let out, or instructing his tailor on rare occasions for another suit, please - the same as the last one, nothing fussy) it was a whole new problem. Trying to clothe a skinny youth with very definite ideas about what he would wear - and definitely not a tie - was decidedly wearing.

"Everyone," Bodie said, with scant regard for the truth, "everyone, wears a tie. You will, too - except when I say it isn't necessary," he added with fairness.

"Soddin' stuffy, that's what you are!" exploded Doyle. "I'll look like a bloody tailor's dummy in that lot."

Bodie ignored him. He'd already found out that that was the best way to deal with Doyle, otherwise you became involved in the strangest of arguments. On the way into town he had almost run over a goose when momentarily distracted by one of Doyle's more outrageous remarks.

It was with a mutual sigh of relief that they left the outfitters and moved across to the large department store.

"They stock photo frames here," Bodie informed Doyle. "You can go and pick one up, here's some money. I'll go to the grocer's and put Alice's order in, then you meet me at the music shop over there. You see it?"

Doyle nodded and went into the store. He made a careful selection and then looked about him. It was the first time he had been allowed out alone for a long time. Surely Bodie had realised he could just take off? Still, he'd always been caught again quickly in the past, he'd give it a bit longer.

He crossed the road to the music shop, his face brightening when he saw the sheet music displayed. Bodie was talking to a man at the far end of the shop. Quietly, Doyle took down one of the music scores, and, having studied it, walked over to one of the pianos on display. He checked on Bodie: he and the man were still talking. If he just tried the fingering...

 

"Damn!" He looked up to find Bodie was staring at him.

"You read music then?"

"Why not?" snapped Doyle. "Think I'm too bloody stupid or something?

"No," said Bodie. "I don't think you're stupid, but you are very ill-mannered. You can cut that line of talk right now, d'you understand me?"

Doyle bristled and picked up the sheet of music. "I'll have this," he said and stamped over to pay for it.

During the drive home, Bodie remarked casually. "You didn't see the music room, did you?" There was no answer but when he studied Doyle's face, the sullen look had gone. Could that be the answer?

Bodie showed him around the room when they got home. "I'm afraid the piano is very poor," he remarked. "I was arranging for a new one to be delivered later in the week. You like music, Ray?"

His face buried in a score from the book case, Doyle only nodded.

"My parents were both keen amateur musicians," went on Bodie. "We went to concerts a lot, had people staying who could play, that sort of thing."

"Doesn't fit in with the army," commented Doyle.

"Don't judge every soldier you meet by Edwin and Clive," warned Bodie. "My father was a professional soldier and a very keen pianist. He was quite good, too."

oOo

The next few days passed like a dream as Doyle explored his new surroundings. To his surprise, he was allowed to come and go as he pleased, the only rule being you were home for dinner at seven and it would not be kept hot for you. He explored the gardens, the fields and the woods, accompanied on short trips by Kitchener who was always looking out for an extra meal. Bodie often asked him for help with odd jobs in the garden but as he was asked, Doyle did not mind. In fact, he enjoyed it. He tentatively started practising again on the old piano, with one ear cocked for the inevitable 'stop wasting your time,' but it never came, so he started on the programme of exercises Franz had worked out for him long before, rising early to get plenty of time.

Bodie, on waking one morning, listened to Doyle playing and, startled, made his way downstairs. Doyle, fixed in concentration, played on, swearing at times. His hands were obviously still paining him, although, much to Bodie's relief, they were greatly improved. Doyle looked up, saw Bodie and stopped, his expression wary.

Bodie looked at the tense figure. "You'll find the new piano a vast improvement," he said, adding. "I felt like an early breakfast."

Going through into the kitchen, after a while he heard Doyle start playing again and smiled.

'You behaved like a right burk,' Doyle was telling himself. 'If he'd minded, he'd have said so.'

Bodie was a puzzle to him, his experience of military men being limited to his uncle, who was in fact a more distant relative, and his two sons. Bodie resembled none of them. While, on the surface, he was extremely conventional in both dress and manner, he had some surprising attributes; he'd been quite unshocked by Doyle's unconventional speech and outlook, only insisting on correct social behaviour while receiving guests, or on the few visits they had made to other members of the family, Doyle, to his surprise, being included in both events. Bodie did not order him to behave, just seemed to assume he would - so he did. Another thing he had noticed was that when they had visitors he was not sent out of the room so they could discuss his 'unfortunate background' in horrified whispers (he'd listened on previous occasions), which made him assume Bodie didn't know. When he found out, of course, things would be different. Better tell him, he decided, so he can pack me off before I get to like it here too much.

The decision made, Doyle took the first opportunity. "Bodie," he remarked as they were fastening back an errant rambling rose, "I'm a bastard, you know."

"Um," replied Bodie. "Pass me the secateurs, will you - and the string. Yes, I know. Good, that's fine," he added, attending to the rose. "Pity I won't be here when this fellow flowers." He gave the tree a pat and climbed down the ladder. "Come on, let's go and have some tea and a slice of fruit cake."

Alice being out, they settled in the kitchen with a large mug of tea each and a very large slice of fruit cake to go with it.

"Bothers you, does it?" asked Bodie, breaking the silence. "What people say about you? They've got no right, you know. Don't let them spoil your life with their dirty little minds!"

So it didn't matter after all, realised Doyle. "They always want to know, do I remember my father," he said bitterly. "And, no, I don't! He was long gone when I was still small. Then my mother and I went to France and lived with Franz - he was a refugee from somewhere or another. He was a fine pianist, only his hands had been damaged - in a war, I think. I liked him, we got on fine together. He taught me to play...then he got ill and died." He paused remembering. "My mother kept getting thinner and thinner, and coughing a lot. They took her away and I stayed with friends. Then my uncle came and took me away. He wouldn't let me go to see her. I ran away to try and find her. They caught me and when they got me back, they told me she was dead. 'All for the best,' one of them said!" His voice broke. "I hadn't done anything wrong, why wasn't I allowed to see her?" He seemed unaware that tears were rolling down his face.

"Oh, Ray...come here." Bodie pulled Doyle into his arms. At first Doyle resisted, then relaxed and sobbed bitterly into Bodie's jacket.

Bodie held him gently, rubbing his back soothingly until he became calmer. Finally, when Doyle had calmed down, he said, "Ray, it wasn't anything you had done. She was desperately ill with consumption, T.B. They were afraid you would catch it too. She didn't want to risk it. You must know she loved you very much. That was the only reason you couldn't see her. They should have told you. I never knew about your father. This Franz now, he sounds like a good man." Doyle sniffed and nodded. "Then the fact that they weren't married is of no consequence. None of their soddin' business," he said, using one of Doyle's favourite expletives.

"I didn't think you'd understand," Doyle said wonderingly.

"Bloody hell," said Bodie. "I was born, had parents too, you know. Did you think I got issued like a kitbag?"

Doyle laughed and, the tea finished, they went out into the garden together, Bodie thinking over what he had learnt and what he would like to do to certain 'good, respectable people'!

 

Doyle looked around as he heard Alice calling from the kitchen. It was a fine warm afternoon but Bodie had disappeared into his study, muttering about having "a damn letter to write..." He went to see what Alice wanted.

"Ray, would you go and pick some raspberries. I want to make a fool for dessert tonight."

'Fool?' thought Doyle. 'Oh well...' He picked up the basin.

"Pick some of the yellow ones, too," added Alice. "They're growing against the orchard fence, they should be ready now."

Yellow raspberries? He soon found the bushes, then stopped, gazing at them. More a pale gold, he thought. He'd seen berries like these once before.

He frowned as he tried to isolate the memory. He and his mother had been travelling with - he couldn't remember the name of the man, but he did remember that he had hated him. They were always arguing. They had stopped at a village and the man had gone to the pub. His mother had said, "We'll go and see Cousin Helena, you'll like her. Come on, Pet." He remembered trailing up a long drive behind his mother. "Not far now, " she had called to him. He could not remember the house, just staring up at the tall lady talking to his mother. A round, jolly woman had appeared and taken him into the kitchen. It had seemed to be full of hot, fresh bread; a little girl in a blue dress had been there, eating an enormous buttered crust. He'd been given one, too. Then the little girl, she'd been a bit bossy, he remembered, had taken him to see the berries. They'd played rolling down the slope to the lawn, then his mother had called him in. They had all had tea together, with seed cake, and Patty - that was her name - had told him of her big brother who was going to be a general! The tall lady had interrupted to tell Patty about dropping something on her dress then she had gone out of the room and returned with several navy jerseys. "You need these when it starts to get cold," she'd said. "My boy has outgrown them." Then she had bent down and turned his face up to look at him. "Oh, Mavis..." she had said softly, looking sad. She had blue eyes, he remembered that. Then they'd left and Graham - that was the bastard's name - had been mad at being kept waiting and shouted at him. He could still remember those jerseys, they had lasted a long time.

"Where is Helena's son?" he had asked. 

"He's away at boarding school," his mother had said. "I don't think it's right sending children away from home." 

Long afterwards, he had asked again about cousin Helena and Patty. 

"They are dead, dear,!" his mother had told him. 

"But Patty was just a little girl," he had protested. 

"Yes, dear, but it happens sometimes. It was very sad. Now, get on with your practice." 

He had not been satisfied. "But her brother, is he dead, too?" he had asked worriedly. 

His mother had smiled. "Oh, no, he's living with friends. He's being well looked after."

Going back into the house, Doyle gave Alice the raspberries and then went into Bodie's study, looking around; he had hardly been in the room before. There was a painting over the mantlepiece, a little girl in a blue dress with a thick dark fringe and wide blue eyes - it was Patty.

"Bodie," he asked. "Your mother, was she called Helena?"

Bodie looked up. "Yes, why?"

"Have you a picture of her?"

In answer Bodie picked up a photograph from his desk and held it out. "Here are my mother and father. They were both killed in a car crash when I was fifteen."

Doyle stared at the pictures; he wasn't sure, but the kind-faced lady did look familiar. "The little girl in the painting, that's Patty, isn't it?"

Bodie stared. "Yes, she was my sister. She died of pneumonia when I was away at school, she was only eight. We thought the world of her."

"I was here with my mother, years ago," explained Doyle. "I just remembered after seeing the yellow raspberries. Patty showed them to me. Your mother gave me some navy jerseys, they must have been yours. Patty said you were going to be a general."

Bodie laughed. "Yes, she told everyone that. My father used to say I better had or she would never forgive me. I remember those jerseys, they used to scratch like hell when they were new. You were lucky I'd broken them in for you!" He decided it was time to change the subject. "By the way, Mr. Hobbs will be coming in to tune the new piano tomorrow, so you will have a much better one to play on. Now, off you go, I've got to finish these letters."

Doyle grinned and him and went out thinking about the new piano.

Bodie smiled at his parent's portrait. "Well, well," he said. "Glad he remembered you...wish you were both here to tell me what to do with him."

Putting down the portrait, he firmly set to his report on conditions on the North West Frontier, with suggestions on what could be done, which would no doubt be filed and forgotten.

oOo

Bodie was working in the garden when Alice called to him: "William, the piano tuner has finished now."

He went into the house and found Mr. Hobbs talking to Alice, while Doyle hovered anxiously in the background.

"Ah, Captain Bodie," said Hobbs, catching sight of him. "It's a lovely instrument and all ready to use now." Doyle disappeared quickly in the direction of the music room.

Mr. Hobbs smiled. "I thought he was waiting for me to finish!"

Bodie saw him out and then returned to the music room.

"My hands still aren't right," complained Doyle.

"Give them time," advised Bodie. "They're much better, and it's a long time since you've played regularly, isn't it?"

Doyle shrugged. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Right, so in a month they'll be fine, you'll see."

Doyle looked unconvinced. To him a month was an eternity. "Do you play at all?" he asked, interested.

"Well, I didn't buy an expensive piano to stand photographs on!" exclaimed Bodie. "And malignant Fate hadn't sent you into my life when I ordered it!" Doyle giggled. "So get up and let me try it out."

Doyle listened closely. "You aren't bad, you know," he said in surprise. "Why did you bother going in the army?"

"Because," said Bodie, straight-faced, "I fancied a red coat and crossed swords at my wedding."

"Didn't like the piece you played," said Doyle. "Too florid."

Bodie ignored the criticism. "Your mother played too, didn't she?" he asked. "I heard she tried to play professionally, but the family made a lot of fuss about it."

Doyle nodded. "She did some concerts, then she met my father." He shrugged. "He was married, so they went away together but it didn't last. Then, when we settled with Franz, he took over my lessons. I tried to keep it up but they kept going on that playing the piano is no life for a man!"

"Did they indeed!" said Bodie heatedly. "They can go... Er, I'd better see about getting you a good teacher again." Doyle looked at him. "I've been listening to you on that old wreck. I know you're good, be a pity to waste it. I'll get in touch with a friend of mine, he will advise me."

Doyle was staring at him as though he had just been handed the world, then sat down and began to play. Bodie settled to listen with Alice, smiling.

oOo

A few days later Doyle happened to be handy when the telephone rang. "Aunt Alice, it's Bodie on the 'phone."

Mrs. Atkins hurried over to take the receiver from Doyle. "Yes, William. Are you all right? Good. What time? I'll see dinner is ready for eight then. Yes, Ray is fine. Drive carefully, dear." She put the telephone down and looked at Doyle. "Ray, go and comb your hair and change out of the disgusting jersey, William is bringing Doctor Scarsdale back with him."

"Who is he?" asked Doyle. Then, "William isn't ill, is he?" he added worriedly.

"No, dear, he's a Doctor of Music and has a school near here. Now off you go and change, they will be here soon."

 

Dr Scarsdale and Bodie were seated in the study, going through Doyle's reports: they made daunting reading.

Dr Scarsdale sighed. "With this record, I don't know anyone who would have him. His behaviour seems to have been appalling everywhere he has been placed."

"Could be because of his background," said Bodie. "He's been pushed around so much, with everyone acting as though he has some kind of contagious disease because he's illegitimate. You'd think it was bloody catching."

"Possibly that hasn't helped," admitted the doctor. "What is his scholastic work like?"

"Awful," said Bodie. "His mother had the idea that too much education stifles a child's natural creativity. I'd like to strangle her at the moment."

"Hmm, one of those, was she?. It's quite the fashion at the moment. What can he do? Can he read and write?"

"Well, I think he can read because he gets scores down in the library. Of course, it could be by chance. He can read music like a wiz; I wish I was as fast. He can write, in a way. Alice is probing the depths to see what else she can find," Bodie added gloomily. "Oh, I think he can speak French, I've heard him singing to himself, playing French songs on the piano."

"Well I'd better hear him play," said Scarsdale.

"I'll go and fetch him."

Doyle, as Bodie had expected, was looking at music in his room.

"Ray, I'd like you to come down and play that piece I showed you for Dr Scarsdale."

"No," refused Doyle. "I'm not going back to school, and I don't like that piece."

Bodie counted to ten. "Ray, you will do as you are told or - "

"You won't send me back!" exploded Doyle, "and I'm not performing for any fucking schoolmaster!"

"Raymond!" snapped a voice. "Behave yourself, and do what you are told at once!" Mrs. Atkins stood there radiating displeasure and command as she had done for over thirty years at the village school.

Doyle blinked, disconcerted. "Yes, Aunt Alice," he said meekly, and followed Bodie to the music room. He seated himself at the piano and smiled at Alice. 

It made quite a difference, Bodie noted with surprise. T

hen Doyle began to play. 

Damn, thought Bodie, obstinate little wretch. Still, he was playing well.

"A pretty piece," said Scarsdale when it was ended. "Debussy's 8th Prelude?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's hear something else, shall we?" suggested the doctor.

Bodie listened to his chosen piece with relief. Doyle was making an apology in his own way.

Halfway through the piece Scarsdale touched Bodie's arm. "A word with you, William." They left Doyle playing for Alice. "You're right, William, he does have talent but he needs further training. We must find a way. He must have some scholastic knowledge. Can Alice get anything into his head, she taught for many years, I believe?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure she'd want to take Ray on. I'll call her."

Alice sat quietly while they explained the situation.

"Well," said Bodie, "would you be willing to teach him? Do you think he can settle down and learn?"

"I've been trying already, William. He's an intelligent boy but he's never had any formal education apart from his disastrous attendances at various schools. He seems to have learnt nothing there, except how to escape as quickly as possible! I know his mother had some unusual ideas about education. A pity, it's been very unfair to Raymond, but if he had an incentive to learn that could be a different matter. You must explain to him," she went on, "that Dr Scarsdale's Academy is nothing like Sandersons, or the reformatory. He seems to have decided that you are trying to get rid of him to another place like that."

"Oh, hell," exclaimed Bodie. "I hadn't thought of that. Get him in and I'll explain that Fairmont is not another Devil's Island."

"Great heavens," said Scarsdale. "He wouldn't think that, would he?"

"Quite probably, he's used to being passed on."

Doyle came in warily.

"Ray," said Bodie, "sit down, we want to discuss something with you." 

Doyle listened, at first suspiciously, then with growing interest. 

"But you will need to be able to read and write well, and a few other things," said Bodie. "Alice is prepared to teach but it will mean a lot of hard work. She thinks you can do it. What do you say?"

Doyle looked at Alice. "Do you think I could?"

"I'm sure of it, dear," Alice said firmly.

"And it's not like Sandersons?" he said, looking at Bodie.

"No, not at all. Once the reading and writing part is out of the way you can devote yourself to your music full-time."

"Honest?" said Doyle entranced.

"Honest," assured Bodie.

oOo

Alice beat up the eggs briskly. "What next, Ray?"

Doyle, spelling it out carefully, told her.

"Good," she said. "Now you fold the flour in."

Bodie, who had wandered into the kitchen, watched as they worked their way through the recipe.

"They won't be ready until tea-time," said Alice. "So it's not good you waiting there looking starved."

Bodie took the hint and left.

Later, while Doyle was practising a new piece, Bodie hunted out Alice and enquired about the odd goings-on in the kitchen.

"It's a new teaching method," said Alice. "Highly practical. I want Raymond to learn to read, he wants to learn to cook. While the vocabulary in the Daily Express Economical Cookery Book is rather limited, it will, I hope, stimulate him into something higher!"

When he had stopped chuckling Bodie looked at her in admiration. "You could have something there. Perhaps I should take him through the car manual, he could end up repairing it for me. It's gone again," he added.

"Oh, dear, where is it now?"

"I pushed it to the village, wasn't far this time, thank goodness. Jacobs looked under the bonnet and said the trouble is terminal. He says he'll do his best. He better had, I'm going up to London to the Staff College for a course. There's been a delay in my new posting, so I've been assigned to that. Should last about a month, home at weekends hopefully. I'd like to see Ray settled at Fairmont before I leave England. Oh, the Vicar has offered to tutor him in maths on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons."

"Good," said Alice, relieved. "I was worried about the maths, not a good subject of mine!"

oOo

Doyle looked gloomily at his books. He hated maths. It was a fine day, he missed Bodie and he'd just had to put the chain back on his ancient bicycle for the third time. He glowered at the offending machine, climbed back aboard and cycled on. He had just sailed past the local cinema when a thought struck him. He circled back, narrowly missing a large dog asleep in the road. Yes, he hadn't been mistaken. 'Gunga Din', the poster said. He spelt it out slowly, 'Romance and Adventure in Kipling's India'. Bodie was always talking about India; could be educational! He peered at the stills. He'd be able to talk to Bodie about India himself after seeing it. Good thing he still had some money left.

Several hours later Doyle emerged after seeing the film around two and a half times. He rode home happily reciting Gunga Din with dramatic emphasis and visualising Bodie with his faithful comrades galloping all over India, putting down rebellions, rescuing damsels in distress, and flinging hand grenades in white-washed forts with gay abandon.

Alice looked up as he came in. "William will be home next weekend," she said. "He has tickets for the concert."

"Good, I'm looking forward to it."

oOo

Bodie settled down by the fire. "It's good to be home," he said meaning it. "How's Ray getting on with his maths?"

"I'm afraid he hasn't been attending the classes," said Alice.

"What has he been doing? asked Bodie. "I knew things were going too well!"

"The Vicar telephoned me and said it was most annoying the way Ray was not turning up for his classes. Out of six he had only arrived for two."

"Where was he?"

"He was quite open about it when I asked him. He's discovered the local cinema, the Luxor."

"That flea pit. The one over at Chesham?"

"Yes, that's the one," said Alice. "I understand he has seen 'Gunga Din' six times: 'Under Two Flags' twice, and was trying to catch up with 'Beau Geste' when I found out. It all seems to have given him a totally erroneous impression of military life."

"How did he manage six times?" asked Bodie, side-tracked for a moment.

"He sees the film round until the management notices him and throws him out."

"Does he indeed," said Bodie. "Give me a minute to calm down, then send him to me. I gather he's in his room in disgrace."

"Yes." Alice hesitated. "William, you won't lose your temper?"

"I'll try not to."

Doyle duly came down.

"Well," said Bodie. "What have you to say for yourself?"

Doyle shrugged. "I don't like maths."

Bodie suddenly realised what Harry meant when he said, "There's times with our Tom if I didn't sit on my hands I'd murder him!" This was one of those times. "I'm very disappointed in you, Ray. Alice and I trusted you to go to those classes. The Vicar has better things to do than sit around waiting for you to turn up! You have a chance to make something out of your life and you waste your time like this. Go to your room."

As Doyle left, Bodie sighed, wondering what he was going to do about him.

 

Next day over breakfast Alice asked, "Will you stay overnight in London after the concert?"

"No," said Bodie. "We're not going. I'm canceling our tickets."

Doyle was horrified. "You can't, we can't miss it."

"We can and we will," said Bodie. "It's time you learnt to behave properly."

Words almost failed Doyle. "You stuffy bastard!" he yelled, before storming out of the room.

"Oh dear. Did you have to do that, William?"

"It's the only way I can get through to him. I can't hit him for heaven's sake! I'm missing the concert too. I could wring his neck!"

oOo

By the next weekend the atmosphere was heavy with gloom. Doyle was engaged on what Alice called the 'Sulk of the Century'. While Bodie, to avoid having to watch him do it, had taken refuge in his study, composing yet another report.

Between the Sulk, Doyle was also playing excessively gloomy music on the piano. Sibelius had never been one of Alice's favourites. At mealtimes he and Bodie were frigidly polite to each other, their conversation consisting of 'Pass the sprouts', 'Thank you', 'Mustard?' until Alice felt she could have screamed; she prayed it would not last much longer.

It was Bodie's aged car which finally broke the deadlock. Bodie was engaged on tinkering with its insides - without Doyle, who was normally a keen spanner passer - and had jacked the vehicle up to get at its murky undercarriage. Alice was just going to ask him if he would like a cup of tea when she heard a crash and a yell. She ran to the music room where Doyle was deep in 'Peleas and Melisande'.

"Ray," she gasped. "It's William and the car."

By the time she got outside Doyle was furiously working the jack and swearing vigorously. "Bloody stupid," he muttered. "Why didn't he ask me to help!" He worked on. "Car jerked off the jack. He almost managed to roll clear but got a leg stuck. Better call Dr. Evans."

"No," said Bodie as firmly as he could.

"Yes," disagreed Doyle, brooking no argument. "You could have broken it."

Alice went to call the doctor. When she got back Bodie was looking less grey and sipping brandy.

"He isn't in shock," assured Doyle. "But he said he would be if he didn't have one."

"I see. Dr. Evans said not to move him. He'll be right along."

"Anything else?" Doyle asked.

"Yes, but I don't think I should repeat it," said Alice. "He was just starting his dinner."

"Oh, too bad," said Bodie. "I should be having mine too!"

Dr. Evans duly arrived and confirmed that the patient would live, diagnosing a couple of possible cracked ribs and a badly bruised leg. He strapped the ribs up and took the patient off for an X-ray, with Doyle going along to see the patient did as he was told - on Alice's instructions.

"Good think we brought him in," said Dr. Evans jovially to Doyle. "Lovely cracked ankle he has. Put a plaster on it, then you can have him back. They won't want to have him here, he's a pain in the neck if he has to stay in bed. Now, don't let Alice wear herself out running around for him, you do it. I'll give you a list of things he can and can't do."

oOo

The next few days were rather trying with Bodie aiming for the 'worst patient in the world' award while Doyle tended to him with a Nightingale-like efficiency which no amount of sarcasm from the patient could deter.

"Ray," said Bodie finally. "If I agree to go to the concert, will you stop bloody fussing over me! And don't you dare hug me," he added hurriedly, "it's painful enough already."

"Bodie, I'm sorry about cutting my math classes. Well, I'm not," Doyle amended truculently, "but I am sorry I upset you and Alice. I'll go back to them regularly. Still prefer the films though. You'd have liked 'Gunga Din', it was all about India."

"Gunga Din?" queried Bodie.

"Yes," said Doyle. "It was all about these three soldiers stamping out Thugee in India."

"Colonel Sleeman would be surprised," said Bodie. "Go on, what else?"

By the time Doyle was halfway through the film Bodie begged him to stop; his ribs hurt when he laughed.

oOo

Three months later they heard that Doyle had scraped through his entrance examination.

"Let's hope he behaves himself," said Bodie cautiously. "He can't play the piano twenty-hour hours a day, unfortunately. My new posting will be through next week so you'll have to write to me with any problems. He'll be able to come home at weekends, which will help. I'll keep in touch with Dr. Scarsdale, too. At least I can see him settled before I leave for India. Where is he now?

"Playing Strauss," said Alice, adding with relief, "Johann."

"Let's go and hear it."

Doyle smiled up at them as they entered. "Did all right, didn't I? Like this piece? Franz taught it to me."

"It's very romantic," said Alice with a sigh.

"Tell me, Countess," said Bodie with a small bow, "do you come here often? May I have the pleasure of the next waltz?"

Alice curtseyed. "Certainly, sir, I never refuse a gallant officer." They whirled happily around the room.

"You're both mad," said Doyle.

oOo

Alice rechecked the list in her hand. "Four shirts, two pairs of pyjamas, plimsoles, underwear, socks..." She paused for a moment and then added another pair. "Warm jersey, trousers. It's just like sending you off to school, William," she remarked.

"Yes," agreed Bodie, carelessly sprawled on the sofa. "With my name stitched in everything. How I hated all those initials. At least R. Doyle is shorter."

"Did he get his hair cut?" asked Alice.

"No. I hadn't the strength to argue about it anymore - again."

"He does suit it longer."

Bodie snorted. "Little twerp told me I looked half scalped!"

Alice looked at him critically. "You know, William, you might suit your hair longer too."

"Certainly not," said Bodie. "It would spoil the fit of my cap!"

"Idiot! Now, where's that cake?"

"Cake!" said Bodie, outraged.

"I've done another one for tea," Alice reassured him. "Good, that's done." The sound of excessively solemn music penetrated the kitchen.

"Oh, God," said Bodie, "he's playing Sibelius again."

"Probably feeling homesick."

"Homesick? He's not over the front step yet! And he'll be home every weekend. He's going forty miles, not up the Orinoco!"

Bodie marched into the music room and demanded an end to the funeral march.

 

Bodie decided to drive Doyle up to Fairmont himself, in case he got lost on the way. The journey was, however, uneventful. Doyle was wearing his most truculent expression which, on their arrival, Dr Scarsdale ignored.

"After lunch, Raymond, there is a gramophone recital in Room 5. I think you will enjoy it. Go with Michael here, he will show you your room and then you can come and have lunch with Captain Bodie and myself."

Doyle went gloomily with Michael who then turned him over to a rather pert young lady. "Molly, this is Raymond Doyle, show him his room, will you. He's on your floor, 7b."

"Right-oh," she replied. "I'm Molly Chapman," she announced.

Doyle nodded.

"Doyle? Are you Irish?"

"No."

Not much of a conversationalist either, decided Molly. "My father is in the Army. He's a Brigadier," she said proudly.

"So is my guardian."

"Oh. I was born in India."

"I was born in Paris," said Doyle dismissively. "This my room?"

"Yes. Can I...?"

"No," said Doyle, going in and shutting the door firmly. She followed him in.

"It's a bit small," she remarked, looking around.

Doyle, with his memories of the cold reformatory dormitory with its hard mattress and forty-odd companions thought it was fine and began to unpack. "It's all right," he muttered.

Molly decided to postpone further enquiries. "Well, I'm off to play tennis. Do you play?"

"No, I don't play games, they're a waste of time."

She left. Doyle scowled after her, finished unpacking and them went down to lunch. Afterwards, he and Bodie walked down to the gate together.

"Keep an eye on Alice for me, will you, Ray?" asked Bodie. "She tends to overdo things."

"Yes, I will. Will you write to me?"

Bodie was nonplussed. "Well I'm not a great letter writer, but I'll do my best. You write back now."

"Yes, I will. Goodbye Bodie."

"Goodbye, Ray. Let me know how you are."

oOo

The Officers' Club in Delhi was very packed. Bodie picked his was through the crowd, looking about; there was the old devil. He made his way to a table. Seated at it was a dark, squarely built officer, reading a battered edition of 'The Tatler'.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry Pritchard looked up. "Took your time, didn't you? Your drink's getting warm," he said.

Bodie took a long drink from the tall glass. "Needed that. How did you know?"

"You were seen at the railway station. What's all this about you adopting an infant found on your doorstop in a wicker basket with a note pinned to its shawl, 'I was poor and unfortunate. Give my baby a home'?"

"I see the grapevine is a busy as ever," said Bodie. "And as unreliable." He passed over a photograph.

Harry studied it. "If you had to adopt a son, Bodie, couldn't you have made it a bigger one. This boy will never play for Wales! Alice wrote Megan about him," he added, passing the photograph back, "Poor little devil's had a lot of trouble in his life, hasn't he."

"Yes," said Bodie. "Couldn't have left him in that place. It won't be easy but I think he'll be worth it. Now what can you tell me about our new posting? They filled me in at HQ but it's what they didn't tell me that I want to know."

Harry pulled out a large map. "I've noted all the positions of all the outposts on here, named with great originality, by the top brass, 'A,B,C,D and E'. We can work on something better. So here we are," Harry pointed to a minute dot on the map. "Just think, boy," he said. "Between India and the Asiatic Hordes there's only the five of us."

"Who are us?" asked Bodie. "Never mind the Asiatic Hordes."

"Well, Phil Manners has B station; we are A of course; Captain Sheridan has C; Jim Albright is at D, only I think he's cracking up - he's had another vision and he's asking to be transferred." 

Bodie moaned hollowly and Harry paused.

"Harry," said Bodie. "I know you, there's a nasty surprise coming isn't there? Who is at E?"

Harry beckoned a waiter over. "Large gin and tonic," he ordered. "You're going to need it," he said to Bodie. "Now look, you've got a good thing here. Promotion is sure to follow. Plenty of scope for initiative. We've got a very cosy bungalow for ourselves."

"Harry!"

"So what does it matter that Mickey Collins is in charge of E station?" said Harry, not sounding convinced himself.

Bodie reached for his gin and tonic and took a long pull. "Might have known," he said. "The fly in the ointment. The worm in the bud."

"Megan says all Mickey needs is the love of a good woman," said Harry.

"Mickey wouldn't know what to do with a good woman!" said Bodie. "So to save India, I have Phil, who's all right; Captain Sheridan, well... Poor Jim Albright, who thinks he's Joan of Arc, and the worst drunk in the Indian Army. Has he still got Harris with him?"

"Yes."

"Well, it won't be boring. Now what's all this about my godson?"

Harry embarked on the latest news from his family.

oOo

Extracts of letters

To: Captain W. Bodie  
From: R. Doyle  
'Dear Sir,  
I'm back at the Academy after the holiday. The new bike goes a lot better than the old one! Thank you!  
Did Aunt Alice tell you she won first prize for her gingerbread at the village fete, and a second in the patchwork quilt section? She gave it to me for my bed here. We got rid of the rhubarb by making 36 pies to sell for the new church organ. People had to buy them because it was a good cause. 

It's very boring, the music room is still locked up. They are all wasting time playing tennis. When are you coming home on leave? 

I went down to try the door again, it's still locked. Dr. Scarsdale found me and said I am to go outside and get some fresh air. I told him I had plenty over the holiday but he insists. He is coming upstairs to see I do, so will walk down to the box and post this.'

 

To: R. Doyle  
From: Captain W. Bodie  
'Dear Ray,  
Please don't start letters to me 'Dear Sir', it gave me a start. I thought it was a bill I'd over-looked. Bodie will do fine. 

I hope you didn't break into the music room in despair. I'm enclosing a sketch of our H.Q., with the mountains beyond. The man with his feet up, smoking a pipe, is Harry. He thinks it keeps the insects away - it doesn't. It's high noon, a hive of industry up here. The native troops are asleep; the mules are asleep; and I'm holding my eyes open. If the hostiles attack now we're goners, but they'll be asleep as well. Our new junior officer is due soon. Harry says good! Only need one more and we can play Bridge. I'll see we can't get one more! 

Leave? I can't have leave. If one of us left, the Asiatic Hordes would sweep through the pass and conquer India! Or so Harry says - he's a keen reader of John Buchan. Sees himself as a Welsh Richard Hannay. 

Ah, he's coming to take over the radio, we are waiting for a message of great national importance from base.  
Regards,  
Bodie

'Don't believe a word this lying sod tells you. We're waiting to hear when we can expect another consignment of spirits - dry as a bone up here, boy! H. Pritchard'

 

To: Captain W. Bodie  
From: Mrs. A. Atkins  
'Dear William,  
I'm pleased to hear you and Harry are settling down well at your new posts. I had a very nice letter from Megan inviting me over to Plas on a short holiday. As both Raymond and Dr. Evans insist I need one, I shall go. She has suggested I come in the summer holidays when Ray would be here to look after Kitchener. Megan very kindly offered to take them as well, but one trip with Kitchener in his cat basket was quite enough and Ray will not go without his piano. 

Ray seems to be settling down well at the Academy, though he did describe his fellow pupils as a bunch of - well, I won't say what. I have spoken to him about this. Dr Scarsdale says not to worry about Ray not mixing in socially, he is naturally a loner and attempts to jolly him up would be ill-advised. Raymond complains much about a Molly who has appointed herself Raymond's little helpmate and is trying to bring him out. I suspect she has been misled by those sad green eyes and waif-like look, which conceals a will of iron! 

The vet came this morning to stitch Kitchener's ear - he's been fighting again. A very nasty experience for the vet. 

The double lilac you planted has decided to live after all. 

The village fete was well attended, Lady Hitchen opened it and left after making a small donation for the raffle - a stuffed 'thing' from her husbands collection. There was a marked reluctance to buy tickets for it, I forbade Raymond to in case he won it! He said something about Lord Hitchen that made me relieved her Ladyship had left.  
Love,  
Alice'

 

To: Mrs. A. Atkins  
From: Captain W. Bodie  
'Dear Alice,  
Harry is still trying to think up a good unofficial name for our post, I've turned down Fort Zinderneuf, I remember Ray telling me about the film. 

So Lady Hitchen has donated another stuffed 'thing', has she. Would have though her husband had completely decimated the local wildlife by now! My father shot with him once, under protest! Man's a fool with a gun, he complained, worse than the bloody hun, the house is like an abattoir. 

Harry sends you his regards and hope you have a good holiday. Let Megan fuss over you, he says, she enjoys doing it. 

Nothing much is happening out here. The gramophone arrived safely, so did the record order - a very mixed bag. Harry now sings along with Count John McCormack - "I hear you calling me', Caruso, and a very offensive Irish tenor called Pat O'Dell, who sings a lugubrious ballad called 'Lay my head beneath a rose'. The record is bad enough, Harry's attempts at an Irish brogue make it much worse. 

Did my first full inspection last month. Started with the worst: two days with Captain Sheridan - twenty minutes of his company is quite enough - then on to Captain Collins. At least Lieutenant Harris had him on his feet and reasonably sober. Still, they were better company. Harris really deserves a promotion but I know he'd rather stay where he is. Mickey is fine when there's action - it's peace and quiet that makes him reach for the nearest bottle. I may combine his post with Jim Albright's, he's in a bad way, poor chap, needs to get out of the hills urgently. His second is no use at all. Have to see what I can do.

What's all this about Edwin?'

 

To: R. Doyle  
From: Captain W. Bodie  
'Dear Raymond,  
What do you mean, you can't find our station on the map? Are you looking at one of the world? You'll need a mile to the inch O.S., if such a thing exists for this part of the frontier. Make for the eastern sector, turn left at the river, which will be dry, then right again at the ruined fortlet, through the appalling village - mind the goats, they're carnivorous, and there, crouched at the side of the hill is a crumbling bungalow with sundry tents, shacks, etc. piled around it - the catoonment - that's it. If you get it right I promise Harry and I will come out and wave to you. As Harry said last night, as he removed the cobra from our living room, it isn't much but we call it home. They come in out of the rain. It's surprising what crowds in with us when we have a good downpour - young Lessing gets terribly excited and rushes about swatting things.

Is there anyone else guarding the frontier, you ask, you were very impressed with its length - I can see your Guardian has risen in your estimation. Well, there's Forbes.  
Me: Harry, I'm telling Ray about Forbes, are we sure he exists?  
Harry: he must do, boy, he sends us messages on the transmitter twice a month.  
Me: yes, but do we know they are from Forbes? I've never seen him. You've never seen him. Could all be a plot to lull us into a false sense of security, then one night, they will come through the pass.  
Harry: Who the hell do you think sends them then? 

Mind you, they have been a bit odd lately. We are celebrating His Majesty's birthday and the fact that young Lessing has gone on leave. Captain Forbes went over on dispatch duty some time ago, years in fact before we arrived - in native dress to infiltrate the A.H., Harry says. We often wonder if he could be a myth. He sends us strange messages from time to time but as we can't find the code book that might render then intelligible we just send them on to H.Q., they don't seem to mind at all. Harry says he's probably settled down there with three wives and a houseful of children and is never going to come back. Officers who stay too long in the hills go strange, he says. How are you doing in the exams, they are on about now, aren't they?'

 

To: Captain W. Bodie  
From: R. Doyle  
'Dear Bodie,  
Yes, I got your letter. I can't understand why my report was so bad, I've worked bloody hard. I think they take into account things that don't really matter - you know, subjects that aren't any use to me. 

Sorry about that blot. Molly is shaking my arm, she would like you to answer the enclosed list of questions. She was very surprised to find you were serving in India, she thought you were in Cheltenham in a bathchair. Apparently she met you in India several years ago but says you may not remember her, she had her braces on her teeth then. She didn't realise it was that William Bodie who was my guardian. She remembers your blue eyes, she says. I think she is cracked. 

I'm doing well with my music studies. Dr. Scarsdale thinks I should try for a scholarship, I think so too, I'm definitely the best here. 

We took Aunt Alice to Brighton last month with Molly's two brothers with their car. They are in the army too, but they aren't a bit like Edwin and Clive. Molly says to tell you I am a conceited wretch, but Aunt Alice is a poppet. She plays a rotten harp.'

 

To: R. Doyle  
From: Captain W. Bodie  
'Dear Raymond,  
I read your letter with interest. I'm afraid I cannot agree with your assessment of the subjects which don't matter. However, I'll discuss that with you when I come home on leave, which will be towards the end of the year. I hope the next report I get will be more acceptable. 

Why did Molly assume I was in a bathchair in Cheltenham? I enclose her completed questionnaire. Would she like me to circularise the other officers, I'm afraid their lives will be equally dull. Why is she conducting this survey? Assure her I do remember her from India, her pet mongoose fell in the punch at an extremely boring official party, gave it quite a lift. We were all grateful to the beast. 

I'm going to write to Dr Scarsdale about your studies. 

Re a letter from Aunt A., what is all this about Edwin and 'unfortunate publicity'? We are a little out of touch up here. He's not being sued for breach of promise again, is he? I remain your bewildered guardian,  
William Bodie.

(Tell Miss Molly I remember her blue eyes too.)'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: R. Doyle  
'Dear Bodie,  
I came top in music studies again this term. Molly and I will be playing a duet at the end of term concert, I hope you will be there. She read your answers to her questionaire, it's for some thing or other, and she says she is writing a song called, 'I was deceived by a blue-eyed Irish soldier'. She played me some of the tune, I didn't think much of it.

Edwin has been in the News of the World again. I read it to Alice and she laughed her head off. 

You never told me you had been promoted! Aunt wrote and told me. Were you in fighting that was in the papers recently? Molly said there had been trouble up there, she's very keen on army news. I'm very pleased about you getting to be a Major. Aunt says that the real soldiers in India tend to get overlooked and rubbish like Clive and Edwin get promoted. Did Harry get promoted too? Megan, Mrs. Harry I mean, was here for the holiday with her three children, I like them - mad on cricket though. Mrs. Harry can't half bowl.'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: Mrs. A. Atkins  
'Dear William,  
I was so pleased to hear your leave has been confirmed, it's such a long time since we've seen you. And promoted too! It's been well overdue, my dear. 

Megan and the children were here for the week, and young Molly Chapman came for a week-end. She is such a nice girl, even if she did give Raymond a black eye. It was well deserved, I'm sure. 

I had a very nice holiday at Plas last month, Ray was on holiday so he minded Kitchener. The cat took full advantage of my absence; slept on Ray's bed every night. I can hardly believe, looking at him, that it's the same starved little creature you brought home with you - not that he's put on much weight, but he looks so much better. The Vicar keeps saying 'your boy is going to be a credit to you'. 

Your Uncle rang trying to reach you, I suspect he wishes to discuss Edwin, who has been in the News of the World as a 'playboy of our time', or some such rubbish. As you instructed me, I informed your uncle you were on a mission of great national importance and could not be reached. He asked after my 'Life of Oscar Wilde'. You wouldn't know anything about this, would you William? I told him I'd submitted it to the Lord Chancellor.'

 

To: R. Doyle  
From: Major W. Bodie  
'Dear Raymond,  
There is nothing wrong with cricket, we are forming a team up here. Yes, there was a bit going on recently. Harry and I did the bit where the cavalry rides to the rescue, only it wasn't the same with a pack of mules pulling light artillery somehow. The besieged wasn't very grateful either, he'd been enjoying himself. The only thing that had worried him was being down to his last case of Scotch. Broke the monotony anyway. 

No, Harry wasn't promoted this time. He does command this station when I'm not here. He says he's keeping his light under a bushel, if they find out how brilliant he is he'll be moved to somewhere awful like Poona. 

Yes, I should be home at the end of the year, if nothing else blows up. The situation is a bit unstable at the moment. I wouldn't put it past Captain Collins to stir it up again to stop himself getting bored.'

 

To: Mrs. A. Atkins  
From: Major W. Bodie  
'Dear Alice,  
I will definitely be home for Raymond's end of term concert, barring rebellion, Act of God or earthquake. Harry is convinced the moment I turn my back the Asiatic Hordes will start their conquest of India. I pointed out he had young Lessing, 28 native troops, 16 mules and 3 pieces of light artillery - that's enough to keep anything at bay. I have great confidence in Harry, not to mention Collins and Harris, and Captain Sheridan. Phil Manners will be on leave too. Harry distrusts his second in command on the grounds he is a Scotsman.

I've just had Raymond's latest report. I'm going to have to read the riot act to him, he's had plenty of rope.  
I was pleased to hear how well he looked after you in London. 

I like the look of the new kitten in the photo you sent, he does have a very nautical look, so Jellicoe it is.  
If uncle gets in touch again, tell him I am in Tibet on a mission to combat the Russian menace. I didn't know you were writing a Life of Oscar Wilde. When will it be published?

Harry thanks you for the news about his family, he is looking forward to seeing them in the summer.'

OOo

"Ray, are you sure Major Bodie will be here this afternoon?" Molly asked for the ninth time.

Doyle sighed. "He said he would. Don't know why you are so excited about it, he's my guardian after all."

"Oh, don't be such a little toad, Ray, we were all mad on him in India. Those blue eyes, and long eyelashes..."

"I think you're cracked."

Molly absently picked up a jar of jam from the table and started unscrewing the cap.

"You dare!" hissed Doyle. "I've got a clean shirt on! Oh, there's Bodie now." To his relief, she replaced the jar.

"There you are, Raymond," said Bodie, catching sight of him. "I've been talking to Dr. Scarsdale."

"Oh."

"I think we'd better discuss it later." He looked at Molly. "And this is?"

"Miss Molly Chapman, Major William Bodie," said Doyle moodily.

"Good afternoon, Miss Molly," said Bodie. "How is your thesis coming along?"

They began to chat. While Doyle was glad at having to delay discussing his latest report, he did resent being excluded quite so completely.

"Here's my father now," Molly announced. A military type was coming over to them.

"Good heavens, Bodie," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting my ward, sir," said Bodie. "Ray, this is General Chapman, my ward, Raymond Doyle."

"Good afternoon, sir," muttered Doyle.

"Afternoon, my boy. So you're the one who plays the piano. Pity he's not going in the Army, Bodie."

"Yes, sir, but Ray is doing very well here."

"Good. Now, how are things in your part of India, Major? Heard some odd reports about..."

"Daddy!" wailed his daughter. "You're here to meet my friends and listen to some music, not discuss the Army! And it's time we went for tea, the marquee's over there."

"Yes, m'dear," said her father. "We can talk on the way, Major."

They all moved to the refreshments tent. 

Doyle chewed morosely on his egg and cress sandwich: Molly was flirting outrageously with his guardian, who didn't seem to mind a bit, while he was stuck with her father. As neither the General or Doyle had any small talk, long painful silences ensued.

"Heavens, the concert!" said Molly suddenly. "Come on, Ray!"

"Suppose we'll have to go and listen," said her father gloomily. "Like this kind of thing do you, Bodie?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right for you then. Don't know where Molly gets it from, her mother and I are both tone deaf."

Bodie, glancing at the programme, noticed that Molly and Doyle were playing a duet. He crossed his fingers.

He enjoyed the concert: the duet passed without serious incident, apart from a frank exchange of scowls at one point. Then, after a few extra items and a solo from Doyle, they adjourned for a buffet dinner.

Bodie, filling his plate, found an annoyed Doyle at his elbow.

"She had the tempo wrong you know," he remarked. "Nearly put me off."

"I thought you both played well," said Bodie calmly. "A little over emphasis on your part perhaps."

Doyle opened his mouth to disagree, then Molly joined them.

"Raymond, pass the lady a plate," said Bodie.

"She can get her own plate," said Doyle savagely.

"Never mind," said Molly briskly. "The little toad is very out of sorts today. And that tempo was quite correct, you were going too fast."

"I was not!" yelled Doyle.

"Raymond!" said Bodie. "Shut up and pass Miss Chapman a plate."

Doyle, muttering darkly, obeyed.

Molly smiled at Bodie. "He's not like this usually, concert nerves I expect." Doyle had departed, Bodie suspected to sulk. "Ray plays beautifully," Molly continued. "It's my fault really, I was teasing him earlier on. I'll never play as well as he does, not that dedicated. He just lives and breathes music."

"It's all right," said Bodie. "I understand Ray. I'd like to thank you for being so kind to my aunt, she told me how much she enjoyed the trip."

"Molly," her father came over, "we have to leave now. Goodnight, Major."

"Goodnight, sir." Bodie looked round, sighed, and went in search of Doyle. He found him in a corner, looking glum.

"Come on, Ray. I have to talk to you - in your room would be best. Lead the way."

Doyle shrugged and led the way to his study/bedroom. It was, Bodie found with relief, clean and tidy. He glanced at the photographs on the mantlepiece; Doyle's mother, one of Aunt Alice, he smiled at it, and to his surprise, one of a very nervous looking Second Lieutenant Bodie.

"Great heavens," he said. "Where did you get this?"

"Aunt Alice," said Doyle. "Well, all the others have their families on their mantlepieces," he went on truculently. "Why, do you object? Isn't the family bastard allowed to -"

Bodie stared at him. "No," he said finally. "But I object very much to this." He passed Doyle's latest report over.

"Seen it," said Ray. "Dr Scarsdale said he was sending you a copy." His face had its 'don't give a damn expression'. Bodie counted to ten.

"Sit down, Ray," he said finally, "and listen for once! Unless you alter your whole attitude to life right now, you are going to be in serious trouble: for a start, Dr Scarsdale is considering asking you to leave."

"Why?" Doyle protested. "I'm top of my class. What else do you want?"

"Because," said Bodie, "you are nothing but a bloody pain in the neck to everyone. You quarrel with the other pupils, you are rude, argue with your instructors, your manners are appalling and you have no consideration for anyone's feelings but your own. Being a fine musician does not entitle you to behave like a boor. I'm sick and tired of constantly receiving complaints about your behaviour. I have managed to persuade Dr Scarsdale to give you one last chance. I think you are worth it. One thing more, Ray... Don't you ever use being the family bastard as an excuse for anything to me again. Now, I don't want to see another report like this again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Ray. He sounded choked and walked to the window and stood looking out. After a while Bodie walked over and slipped an arm round his shoulders.

"I think I understand, Ray," he said. "The others here, they haven't had the experiences you have and they don't understand, they irritate you, gibe at you, so you get back at them. They're too young to understand. Stop fighting everyone, the only one getting hurt is you. Dr Scarsdale says you're one of the best students he's ever had - you don't have to prove a thing to them! So just get that chip off your shoulder, and relax for heaven's sake!"

Doyle blew his nose. "I'll try. Have you seen Aunt?"

"Yes, I dropped my kit off at home before I came on here. I'll be home for a while now. You're home at the weekend?"

"Yes," said Doyle. "A month's holiday."

"Good. We have plenty to catch up on. But you must keep practising. Dr. Scarsdale tells me if you do well next term there's a scholarship you may be able to try for."

Doyle looked at Bodie for a moment, then flung his arms around him, hugging him.

"Hey, you wait till you win it," said Bodie, grinning.

"Oh, I will," said Doyle with confidence.

oOo

Some months later -

Bodie hurried into the kitchen, excitedly waving a letter. "Alice! He's done it!" He grabbed his aunt and danced her round the kitchen. "Knew he could if he applied himself, little monster!"

Alice grabbed the letter from him and read it. "Oh, and it's a fine result. He must have worked hard, bless him!"

Doyle had wandered into the kitchen, looking around vaguely. "What's all the fuss about?" he asked. "I feel like a sandwich, where's the bread knife?"

"You've been awarded your scholarship," said Bodie. "Well done, Ray."

"Oh," said Doyle. "Thought I would, the others weren't up to much."

"God, isn't he modest," said Bodie.

"He doesn't mean it," said Alice. "Well done, Ray."

Bodie noticed, with amusement, that Doyle had gone pink with pleasure.

oOo

"The scholarship will cover his tuition and some of the expenses," said Dr Scarsdale, "but there will be others to be met. Can you afford it, William?"

"I never went into the Army for the pay prospects," said Bodie, "but there are a few things at Hellens I can sell to help out. A horrible Gainsborough of great-great-great-grandmother's for a start. I never could stand the thing. And there's a Chinese vase in the attic grandfather looted from somewhere or another - that's supposed to be valuable. You make the arrangements and I'll take them up to London and see what I can raise."

oOo

"So, it's all arranged," Bodie told Doyle. "You leave for Paris on the 16th. Dr Scarsdale is travelling over on business, so you may travel with him. They have a hostel for students quite near the conservatoire, you should be comfortable there. I've arranged an allowance to be paid to you at a bank nearby. Here is the address and a letter you will need, introducing yourself. If you need anything else, get in touch with Dr Scarsdale, or me. You have my address in India?"

"You're leaving England again?" asked Doyle. He sounded depressed.

"Yes. If I hadn't been detained by that course, I'd have left a month ago. Ray, is there anything the matter?"

Doyle hunched his shoulders. "It's just...I'm looking forward to Paris, but I never thought it would be like this. I've been very happy here with you and Aunt. I feel scared all of a sudden. I sound just like some soft kid," he muttered.

Bodie smiled. "No, you don't. But it's time you went out into the world. Aunt and I are very proud of you. We know you are going to do well. Come on, we'll have time to fasten that wisteria back before tea, and what was it Aunt wanted doing in the kitchen garden?"

oOo

A few days later Bodie stood watching as the taxi drew away down the drive. He walked back into the house feeling suddenly lonely.

oOo  
Extracts of letters

To: Mr. R. Doyle, Paris  
From: Major W. Bodie, North West Frontier  
'Dear Ray,  
Just back from up country to find letters from you and Alice waiting for me, one from my uncle, too, but I'll save that till I've nothing else to read. Raymond, where do you get these ideas of military life from, Ouida? Mind you, I did enjoy your picture of me sitting on the verandah while a native servant hands me a cold drink, then lays out my dress uniform for dinner in the mess, followed by a few hands of bridge! You know, I've forgotten what a long, cold drink tastes like. To correct your misinformation: I've just returned from a long tour of inspection; my uniform has hardly been off in a month, I suspect I stink to high heaven; I've been bitten by every bug on the frontier and suffered greatly from a lack of intelligent conversation. I was forced to spend four days with Captain Sheridan - the bore of all time. Even being shot at constantly by the hostiles is preferable to spending time with him. Then back to make out reports, which some idiot in Delhi will file and forget!

Harry says that he, too, much enjoyed your picture of army life. What a pity, he says, that life does not imitate art. You remember Harry? He's in his Richard Hannay mood again today. 

By the way, there is no need to be coy about your ex-musical activities, I am aware of the facts of life. Harry says he's been up here so long he's forgotten them. He's just handed me a mug of something vile to drink. I remember Yvonne from your last letter, but who is Stephanie?

Think I'd better go and shave my head, I seem to have brought company back with me. That never happens to Richard Hannay.  
Regards, your desperately itching guardian,  
William Bodie

P.S. Harry says if you swing your vest round and round over your head it stuns the lice. It doesn't. Think I'll have to burn my underwear as well.'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: R. Doyle  
'Dear Bodie,  
You have disappointed me. You mean you are not being constantly vamped by exotic oriental ladies after the plans of the new Gatling while outside hundreds of howling dervishes surround the bungalow, led by a madmullah bent on world domination? It looked much more exciting at the cinema.

I've just returned here after the summer holidays. Paris is still very steamy. Hadn't realised I'd been here so long, it's well over a year now. Any chance of you coming home on leave? Aunt is keeping well now. Dr. Evans is being very strict with her and she is following his instructions, on the whole. Molly visited her while I was home; they seem to have become great pals. She told me she met you in Delhi and you went out wining and dining together. You didn't tell me! All that rubbish about your lonely life up in the hills, with only Harry and the mules for company, winding up your gramophone your only pleasure. Then I hear you have been escorting a pretty young lady to all the best night spots! Are you sure it is good for you at your time of life?  
Your concerned ward,  
Raymond Doyle'

 

To: Mr. R. Doyle, Paris  
From: Major W. Bodie, Officer Club, Delhi  
'Impudent brat,  
I find your concern touching, but assure you that in spite of my advanced age, I do not find squiring Miss Molly round too fatiguing. She says you are not to worry, she will see I'm tucked up with my Horlicks by 9 o'clock every night. She is back here, staying with her parents at the moment. We do have leave you know. I've left Harry up there defending the Empire. He should be able to cope. Sixteen damned lousy mules and young Lessing is enough to keep anyone at bay. Can't write much now, I'm meeting Miss Molly at three for a military band concert, then on to dinner and bridge. Should be an interesting evening.  
Regards  
Bodie'

 

To: Mrs. A. Atkins, Hellens  
From: Mr. R. Doyle, Paris  
'Dear Aunt Alice,  
Thank you for the parcel and your letter. I did wonder where all my socks were. No, I didn't rush out and buy any, I thought if I left it long enough they'd be sure to turn up.

I've had a very odd letter from William. He's been out with Molly again, and playing bridge, and listening to military band music. You know, the only thing he doesn't like about the Army is the music! Do you think he is sickening for something? I always thought you couldn't get him away from that blasted hill station unless he was being dragged by wild horse. He hates bridge, too.

It's a lot cooler now and we are hard at work. A parcel is on the way to you. Yvonne is back here again and has put in a present for you. We are playing together at the next concert. She's much better that Molly ever was. I'll send you a programme. Look after yourself.  
Love,  
Ray'

 

To: Mr. R. Doyle, Paris  
From: Mrs. A. Atkins, Hellens  
'Dear Raymond,  
I received your letter and parcel safety. Please thank Yvonne for me. I have written and enclose a note for her but my French is very rusty so do make sure she understands. The lace is lovely, I shall treasure it. 

Now, regarding William, no, I do not think he is sickening for something! But I do believe he is seriously interested in Molly. She is certainly interested in him! He is at an age now when most men decide it's time they thought about marrying and Molly is very suitable in many ways. She is from a military family too, and while she is younger than William, the difference is not great enough to cause problems and she is a very nice young lady. She is very fond of him and I know he is of her. They could well make a good match. Please do not mention this to William in your letters, he has said nothing definite to me yet.

Dr. Scarsdale called and said to thank you for the scores you sent, he will be writing to you. He is rushed off his feet with the exams at the moment, the poor man looked very tired.  
Look after yourself, dear, and do eat!  
Love,  
Alice'

 

To: Mrs. A. Atkins, Hellens  
From: Mr R. Doyle, Paris  
'Dear Aunt Alice,  
William and Molly! I don't believe it. I've always thought if he married anyone it would have been Harry - if Megan would agree and it was allowed. I've always thought of him as - well - not old, but getting on. He isn't really, is he. But isn't he a bit serious for Molly? Still, if she makes him happy I'll forgive her for being such a rotten harpist.  
Yvonne has enclosed a note for you. I've done a translation. She says her English is 'rusty' too. I still can't imagine old William marrying anyone, let alone Molly.  
Love, Ray'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: Mrs A. Atkins  
'Dear William,  
Now the visitors have all gone I'll be able to catch up on my letters.

It has been a lovely summer. Ray was home, then Molly came on a short visit, then Megan with the children. They are growing into delightful young people. 

Ray seems very happy at his studies in Paris. Molly says she thinks he is much improved! You know, I will admit now, I did think of doing a little matchmaking there at one time, but it seems she has fixed her affections on a 'lying blue-eyed Irish soldier, who would rather be up there on the frontier fighting the flies and Pathans than here with a nice cosy staff appointment'. Well, it was no surprise to me, my dear. I've been reading between the lines of your letters for some time now. You know you both have my best wishes.

Dear old Kitchener died in the summer. Ray buried him under his favourite tree in the orchard. I'm afraid I wept a little. Silly really, he'd had a long, happy life. Jellicoe is so like him in many ways, he's grown into a lovely cat.  
Oh dear I have to finish now - the harvest festival flowers have to be done.  
Love,  
Alice'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: Mr R. Doyle  
'Dear Bodie,  
How dare you get engaged without asking me first! I'm your ward aren't I? I knew I should have never introduced you to Molly. Can I be the best man or do I have to join the Army first? Will you be having crossed swords at the wedding? Aunt will love that. Please give my best wishes to Molly, I think she has made a very sensible choice.  
Regards,  
Ray'

 

To: Mr R. Doyle  
From: Major W. Bodie  
'Dear Raymond,  
I regret my omission in not informing you before I became engaged.

About you being my best man, I'm sorry but Harry has been clamouring to return the favour since I 'stood up' for him and Megan. He says he is very relieved I've done it while he is still capable of walking down the aisle. 

His feet are bothering him again. I keep telling him he should have joined the cavalry but he doesn't like horses. Molly says your introduction was superflous. She's been chasing me since she was fourteen years old - I never had a chance!  
Crossed swords will be obligatory at the wedding, I only hope we can stay serious long enough.

Thank you for your good wishes and the present, Molly says it is beautiful and did your little French lady help you pick it? I'm coming on leave shortly, we'd like to be married in England. I may try for an appointment over there. I hope you can come over for the wedding, I'll be damned annoyed if you don't!  
Bodie'

 

To: Mrs A. Atkins  
From: Miss M. Chapman, Kensington  
'Dear Aunt Alice,  
Thank you so much for the lovely cloth, I do wish I could do work like that. 

William is having an interview at the Staff College tomorrow. He is being very quiet about it but I know he'd be wonderful for the position. It would be so much better to have a posting here than everlastingly tracking from hill station to hill station and having to send our children to school in England. I know I used to hate it, being constantly dispatched like a parcel!

We looked at several houses, one was very sweet - just right for the college and London. Hellens is lovely but so out of the way, and the flat in London is very small and pokey. 

We have been visiting all my relatives. They approve of William very much. Aunt Marcia, the wretch, told him how I used to rave about him in my letters home. You know, I have to keep pinching myself to believe we are really engaged.  
Love,  
Molly'

 

To: Captain H. Pritchard  
From: Major W. Bodie  
'Dear Harry,  
I've had my interview, they tell me I'm on the short list. Then we looked at several houses. I wasn't taken with them. 

How are things with you? I never thought I'd miss you and the bloody mules. I hope young Lessing isn't being too much of a trial.

Alice sends you her best wishes. We are going over to Plas to see Megan next week and I'll be able to deliver your stuff to them then. 

It's a pity Ray couldn't be home. He's doing very well in Paris, Aunt had lots of news he hadn't seen fit to pass on to me, including him winning a quite prestigious competition recently. 

I ran into Jim Albright. He looks much better. No problems now, he says. Will tell you the rest later...'

 

To: Captain H. Pritchard  
From: Mrs M. Pritchard  
'Hello love,  
Sorry it's been so long, I've had visitors - William and his young lady. 

The children loved their presents and are writing letters for their Da to go in with mine. You'll see our Tom's handwriting has improved, but his spelling is still very shaky. I loved my harem dress and will wear it for you when you're next on leave - unless it's in the winter, then you'll just have to ravish me in my flannelette as usual. I was trying it on in front of the mirror and then started my nautch girl dance and lo, I heard a voice saying: "Mam, Sian's been sick in the hall.". Not to worry, it was just the result of too many chocolates.

Your Aunt Mary visited. She says when you come home, remember four is enough. I can't think what she means, except that one of the children had picked the cherries off her hat thinking they were real. Fortunately they didn't eat them.

I'm a bit worried about William, he is being very taciturn even for him! I don't think he really wants a staff appointment at all, if he did, he'd have applied years ago! He likes serving out on the frontier. And another thing, Molly needs someone lively of her own age. I can tell William is very fond of her and she is of him, but he's more like an affectionate elder brother than a sweetheart. 

Remember how daft we were about each other? Only the fact you were in Poona stopped us eloping madly, we got so fed up waiting for our wedding. 

The only time William gets a light in his eye is when he's talking about how well Ray is doing. He's going to have to stop doing that, Molly gets a bit sharp about it. As for her idea of selling up Hellens and then moving to London for the mad social whirl - doesn't she realise that William is devoted to his home and isn't going to be a playboy for anyone? I hope they sort themselves out in time!

Tell the top brass it's time you were home again. Oh, damn, another domestic crisis.  
All my love,  
Megan'

 

To: Mr R. Doyle, Paris  
From: Mrs A. Atkins, Hellens  
'Dear Raymond,  
I don't know if William has informed you already but he and Molly have decided to postpone their wedding for the moment. I think it was a wise decision. It was becoming apparent they are not ideally suited. They need some time to think things over. William has gone over to Anglesey to stay with Megan for a week; Molly's father has been on the 'phone to me. Thankfully there isn't any ill will. I think he feels that they are not well suited too. She is very young and William is very set in his ways; he was obviously very thankful when he didn't get that staff appointment.  
Also, I don't think Molly would be able to stand her husband's long absences the way Megan Pritchard can. Much better they find all this out now.

Thank you for the programme, I am very pleased you did so well.

I'll write again as soon as I have more news.  
Love,  
Alice'

 

To: Mr R Doyle, Paris  
From: Mrs A. Atkins, Hellens  
'Dear Raymond,  
Yes, the wine arrived safely. William says 'marry the girl at once, it's a very good vintage!' Molly and he have decided not to go ahead with the wedding. It was a mutual decision and they have remained good friends.

She was down here visiting at the weekend and they seemed much more relaxed together, which I was very happy about. William will be on his way back to India next month, I wish you could have come over. I know he would be happy to see you. There were some complaints from the relatives over missing a wedding but they wisely paid no attention. Better send the fish knives back I say than embark on a risky marriage. 

Thank you again for the wine, it is very good indeed.  
Love,  
Alice'

 

To: Mr R. Doyle, Paris  
From: Major W. Bodie, SS Abercorn, en route to India  
'Dear Ray,  
Thought I'd scribble a note to you to avoid getting trapped in one of those awful deck games. Just another couple of days and I'll be back in India. I'm looking forward to seeing the old place again. 

I'm glad you were able to make it home, we had a lot of time to make up. 

Molly told me she will keep an eye on Aunt Alice for us. Now her parents are settling permanently in Cheltenham she won't be far away. I'm glad of that, you know what Alice is for overdoing things.

About the marriage - it wouldn't have been right for either of us. Molly will be much happier with someone of her own age and tastes. I'm getting too set in my ways. I suppose that's what spending most of your life out here alone does for you, except for Harry and the mules of course. And Young Lessing. Perhaps he's tranferred or gone AWOL, one can but hope.

I still think you should consider marrying Annette, that wine was superb. I don't see the fact she is a foot taller than you any reason to turn her down. Can't you grow or something?  
Bodie'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: Mrs A. Atkins  
'Dear William,  
I'm so glad you'll be home in time for Raymond's concert after all. He would have been so disappointed if you had missed it.

Now, don't worry, dear, I'm following Dr Evans instructions and taking my medicine. Between him and Raymond I feel just like one of your soldiers! Molly came to see me at the hospital, she is such a nice girl. It won't be long now!'

 

To: Mrs A. Atkins  
From: Major W. Bodie  
'Dear Alice,  
I should arrive next Wednesday and will stay with you till the day after the concert. I've told them I'll go AWOL if they want me in Aldershot that night! I can't miss 'our boy's' concert. Glad to hear you are taking notice of Dr Evans. Just because you remember him in his pram is no reason to disregard his advice. 

I know you are having the time of your life now that Ray is back with you. I hope he didn't leave a long line of weeping, bereft ladies in Paris. 

I have to go. I hope Ray isn't as nervous as I am for him.  
See you Wednesday.  
Love,  
William'

oOo

Alice moved slowly about the garden; it was very pleasant out here in the cool evening, the scent of the stocks was overwhelming. It was such a pity she had to go in, but William would fuss if she didn't. 

I've been very lucky in my two 'sons', she thought.

She made her way back into the house to find Bodie reading a letter from Ray by the fire.

"He's been busy," he remarked. "Would you like some supper?"

"Just a warm drink, dear." 

He went into the kitchen.

"Right, here you are, and cheese and crackers for me." He brought it over to her.

"Thank you, William." She sipped the drink slowly.

"Tired?" Bodie asked.

"Not really. I've been thinking about Sam. It's nearly twenty years since he was killed on the Somme. I expect it's the papers that reminded me, all this talk of war. At least we had years together before... I'm sorry, William, and you just back home."

"I don't think it will come to anything," said Bodie. "You know what the newspapers are. They make our skirmishes sound like major battles."

"You don't think anything of the sort, William," said Alice.

Bodie grinned. "Maybe not, but there's nothing we can do."

"William, you won't leave it too late to tell Ray?" said Alice suddenly.

Bodie looked up. "Tell him?"

"That you're in love with him. I've known quite a while, I think. You light up when you talk about him, or when he comes into the room." She was silent.

Bodie looked into the fire. "I hadn't realised it was so obvious, but then you've known me a long time. I didn't admit it to myself till recently. Well, I knew I loved him but... I can't tell him, even if he returned my feelings. There's no way we could be together. I'd be back in the hills, he has his concert career ahead of him. Two different worlds. You know how a liaison between us would be viewed. Besides, Ray's too young! He will probably marry one of his French misses and end up with a house full of very unruly children!"

"Now don't you worry, " he added. "I'll look after Ray. Then, when I'm a crusty old general in a bathchair in Cheltenham, he'll come and wheel my chair and I'll bore his children with tales of my exploits in India."

"Idiot!" said Alice. "I don't know why I'm worrying. Ray is bright enough to see it for himself. And he wouldn't let the whole British Army stop him if he thought it was right! Well, I'm off to bed now, I must get some sleep if I'm to stay awake long enough tomorrow to hear you ring me after the concert. I wish I could go. Now be sure to call and tell me all about it. Goodnight dear."

oOo

Dr Scarsdale sighed as for the twentieth time Doyle came and peered through the curtains. Bodie's seat was still empty.

"Where the hell is he?" Doyle muttered. "It's that damned car, or the bloody army!"

"Raymond! Please stop working yourself up. William phoned and said he would be late. He'll be here as soon as he can."

"Blast him!" said Doyle, visibly twitching. Then, because it was time, he squared his shoulders and marched onto the stage.

The doctor listened, thankful that in spite of his mood, Doyle was playing really well. After a while he noticed Bodie listening at the side of the stage and moved over to him. "He's playing well, William."

"Yes. Was he very upset I hadn't arrived?"

"Furious. You know how he is. I haven't told him, it would have been very unwise. You and Alice are the most important people in his life. He's going to miss her."

 

Doyle finished his programme and walked off the stage. "So there you are," he snapped. "What was it, a bloody regimental dinner?"

"No," said Bodie. "They want you for an encore. Go on, we'll talk later."

After the concert they returned to the doctor's comfortable home.

"Well, all the critics I've spoken to are agreed," Dr Scarsdale said. "Ray could have a fine career ahead of him."

Doyle looked up. "I'd like to phone Alice. Will she still be up, Bodie?"

There was a long silence.

Doyle looked from one to the other. "What's the matter," he asked. "Please tell me."

Bodie moved to sit beside him. "I'm sorry, Ray. It's Alice. She died early this morning. She had a massive heart attack. Dr Evans came but there was nothing he could do. She wasn't in any pain."

"No!" said Doyle "It isn't true! I want to..."

"Ray!" said Bodie. "It is. You know how ill she has been over the last two years. She was talking about you last night and wishing she could have been here. She was so proud of you."

Doyle blinked; tears were trickling down his face. "She wasn't alone, was she?"

"No, I was with her all the time." Bodie pulled Doyle into his arms. "Come on, love," he said, patting him as Doyle sobbed quietly.

Doyle finally looked up. "I loved her," he said. "She always thought I was all right. Not like all the others."

"She was right, wasn't she," said Bodie. "She told me from the first moment I brought you home."

Doyle slowly pulled himself together. "I'm glad you were there." He looked at Bodie, finally realising how tired he looked. "I don't know why you put up with me, Bodie. I'm such a sod to you at time. I don't mean it you know."

"Hey," said Bodie, "if I can put up with Harry, always on about his feet, those bloody mules and young Lessing's fantasies about becoming a Field Marshal, I can certainly cope with you. Come on, lad, you need some rest."

oOo

Three weeks later Bodie joined Dr Scarsdale at his flat. "Well, I've rented out Hellens, that way the place will be kept going while I'm in India and Ray is in Vienna." He looked round. Doyle was still playing in the other room. "I can let you have the rest of the money at the end of the month."

"Vienna will give Ray a final polish," said the doctor. "It will be good for him in other ways too, widen his experience. Do you ever regret the expense, William?"

"No. He's worth every penny. He's going to do well. I won't marry now, it wouldn't be fair. And I've no-one else to worry about."

"Yes," said Dr Scarsdale. "I see."

Ray joined them. "Hallo, Bodie, wondered where you'd got to. We can still make the concert, it should be good."

"Yes. Look, Ray, I've rented Hellens out to an American family who are keen on old English houses. I told them most of the house was no older than Edwardian but they didn't seem to mind. That way they'll keep it in trim while I'm abroad and you're in Vienna. We'll both be away for a year at least. The Vicar has taken Jellicoe, he's settling down well with them. They always liked him."

Doyle nodded. "But Bodie, when you're home on leave, where will you stay?"

"Ah. My father left me this in London, it's so small there's hHardly room to swing a very tiny cat. I don't think you ever saw it. But it will be handy for concerts and that sort of thing. I'll give you a key. 

"Ray, if anything happens to me in India, you'll be getting Hellens. I couldn't let it go to anyone else."

Doyle stared at him. "Look here, Bodie, you take damn good care of yourself up on that bloody frontier. I want us both to be able to live at Hellens one day!"

"Hey, let's get to this concert," said Bodie, looking at the clock.

Dr Scarsdale watched them both walking down the road, chatting away together, then glanced at his desk; the calendar needed altering. He looked at a newspaper: September 1937. There, that was right now.

oOo

To: Mr R. Doyle, Vienna  
From: Major W. Bodie, Military Hospital, Peshawar, India  
'Dear Ray,  
For God's sake send me something to read. Anything! I'm stuck in this pest-hole flat on my back and reduced to reading the labels on the medicine bottles. Even a tattered copy of the 'Ladies Home Companion'. Harry was 'funny' about that; he will be sorry when I'm on my feet again. He didn't stay long, he distrusts young Lessing. He has, Harry says, 'ideas' and just might take it into his head to 'solve' the frontier problem when Harry and I have spent years keeping it ticking over nicely, with only the odd skirmish over a stolen cow or bride to get excited about.

Did I tell you young Lessing wanted to bury me in the hills where I fell? He thought I'd like it! Harry said no, on the grounds they'd need dynamite to blast a hole, and that I wouldn't because I was still breathing. He also added that was a pity as it was a hell of a job to get my unconscious body down the mountain.

Once the legs, ribs and concussion get put right I'll be back at the station - if I don't expire from terminal boredom first! Molly came to see me, she is visiting her brother. She said it would have been better if I had dismounted before my horse fell down the cliff. I told her that was no way to console a wounded officer. Young Lessing arrived to see me, too. Obviously Harry had decided that was one way to get rid of him for a while. I sent them off together. Lessing is so confoundly cheerful all the time.

The nurse I am dictating this to, a Miss Amelia Powers, is very curious about you. She asks are you very handsome. I say no, you are short, with red hair, acne and a squint. She demands a photograph, which I haven't got. Send me one would you, I'd like to see if you've grown at all. Don't forget the books.  
Your bravely suffering guardian,  
W. Bodie'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: Mr R. Doyle, Vienna  
'Dear Bodie,  
What are you doing falling off horses at your age? Megan Pritchard had warned me you were in hospital, and that I wasn't to believe a word Harry wrote me about it as he was a terrible liar. Well, that makes two of you.

Molly also wrote saying not to worry, you were being terribly brave but rather unkind to a very sweet young officer. The infamous Lessing? What does he do that annoys you so much, apart from breathe, of course? Or did he disturb the cosy ménage you have up there with Harry? I'll send the books and records to your station as by the time they get to you I'm sure you'll be back there again.

I don't know if you've seen from the papers but things are getting a bit unpleasant here. Can see now why Franz left this bloody country. Did I tell you he came from here? The Principal has given us orders to stay out of the beer halls and off the streets at night. A few of us got involved in scuffles with the local rubbish. You know the sort of thing, they strut around in uniforms and think they look big pushing old ladies into the gutter. Anyway, we've been told to keep out of it. I heard some of the professors are leaving.

Nearly forgot, I enclose a recent photograph. As you can see, my acne has cleared up and I never had red hair and a squint, you lying devil.

Hope your next letter says you're back at the station, grumbling away about the mules as usual.  
Regards,  
Ray'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: Dr R. Scarsdale  
'Dear William,  
I have arranged for Raymond to continue his studies at the conservatoire at Graz, Lower Austria; the tuition is of the same standard and the accommodation is better in many ways. A friend of mine has been in touch to inform me that Raymond was attracting unfavourable notice from the authorities in Vienna. His tendency to be protective of the underdog had led him into several disturbing confrontations with what you and I would call rampant hooligans in uniform, but who in Vienna at the moment seem to have semi-official backing. I cannot, in my heart, blame Raymond for his actions but feel it would be better if he was removed immediately from all sources of conflict. I decided to write to you so you would be aware of the reasons for his transfer.

His tutors were very pleased with his progress and regret his departure, the reasons for which they fully understand. It's a very unhappy time there at the moment I'm afraid.

I hope that you continue in good health and that we may meet in the near future.  
Yours sincerely,  
R. Scarsdale'

To: Mr R. Doyle  
From: Major W. Bodie  
'Dear Ray,  
The box of books and records arrived here the week after I did.

We are enjoying playing the records very much, they make a nice change from young Lessing's impersonations of Noel Coward which, as Harry says, make the evenings seem far longer. My chief objection to young Lessing is his everlasting bloody cheerful disposition in the face of all adversity. It's like serving with the 'Boy's Own Paper!' I suspect he recites 'Play up, play up, and play the game' to himself every morning! I knew what he would be like when I collected him from Phil Manners, you remember Phil? Translates erotic Persian poetry in his spare time? I'd gone there on a routine inspection and there was Young England, buttons blazing - and I had to take him back with me.

Well, next morning, Harry and I were grumbling happily over our mugs of tea while discussing troop deployments and the merits of goats' cheeses, when what do we hear? "Come on now, chaps, form a line, get those animals loaded up." Harry looks at me. "Ah," he says. "What do we have here, boy?" He strolls out. The native troops and 16 mules are staring at young Lessing in amazement, not only because he presents an arresting sight in his blancoed brilliance but because they can't understand a bloody word he says. Harry may be short on stature but he's great on command, standing there, mug in hand, in his breeches and carpet slippers, displaying the hairiest chest since King Kong while barking out orders in Pushtu. Y.L. is most impressed. So, after we've got the show on the road, I said, "Harry, I don't think that lad has been out of England before." "England," snorts Harry, "I don't think he's been outside Ipswich."  
I did ask Harry whether he dislike Young Lessing because he had disturbed the happy rapport we have together. He said no, because he's a twit!

Also, he says to tell you he couldn't love a man who slept in his socks like I do.

Thank you for the photograph. That girl on your knee is a stunner, isn't she!

Dr Scarsdale wrote me of your departure for Graz. Please try and stay out of trouble, I have several more grey hairs after reading his letter!

Sorry this is a short letter, we are having a few problems up here. I'm going to have to get mounted and off very shortly. Look after yourself.  
Bodie'

 

To: Major W. Bodie  
From: Mr R. Doyle, Graz, Austria  
'Dear Bodie,  
Sorry if I alarmed you but I know you would have acted the same,, only more tactfully - you would have said 'I beg your pardon' before you kicked the sod in the teeth! I like Graz anyway, it's more civilised. Nice people.

I didn't tell you, I met the unspeakable Clive at a reception at the British Embassy. He's a military attaché, no less! I was part of the entertainment. "Great Heavens," said he. "It's Raymond Doyle, isn't it?"  
"Yes," said I, restraining myself from kicking him in the shins. He's just as wet as ever. He says they are thinking of moving you! Why? What about the Asiatic hordes? Does the War Office know what they are doing?

I can see you both saying goodbye to every mule in the place, breaking your hearts at having to give up all the luxury you enjoy there. For goodness sake, let me know where they are sending you. I'm very worried about the fate of India without you two guarding the pass. Hey, you keep your eyes off Heidi, she's bad for your blood pressure. If you think she is - well - big - you should see my new girlfriend, Liesl.  
Regards,  
Ray'

 

To: Major W. Bodie, c/o Plas, Penmon, Anglesey  
From: Mr R. Doyle  
'Dear Bodie,  
You're on your way home to England? Blast you, I'm stuck here for another two months at least. By the time I'm home they will have shipped you off again to some other Godforsaken pest hole of the Empire!

You won't know me if we ever get to meet again. I've grown a beard - it looks quite good too. I expect you've heard the news about the Germans taking over here. I won't be sorry to be leaving, some of my friends are trying to get visas to leave too, and it's their bloody country!

Dr Scarsdale is trying to sort some concerts for me for when I come home. I've asked him to be my manager. Well, we have sort of discussed it; I wouldn't want anyone else. His son Desmond - remember him? - is taking over running the Academy.

Let me know where they are sending you.'

 

To: Mr R. Doyle  
From: Major W. Bodie, Aldershot, England  
'Dear Ray,  
Shave. You will look like a moulting hamster in a beard. Only Jolly Jack Tars wear beards these days and you haven't the tattoos for that.

Yes, they did send me to pest-hole of the Empire, it's called Aldershot. I'm spending my time lecturing to bright young officers, all with a suspicious resemblance to young Lessing, on my experiences in India. Though what use information on elementary Pushtu and the care and management of a mule train will be to them in Aldershot I fail to see.

They let me out recently so I could be Godfather at the christening of Harry's new daughter. We had Muffy done by the regimental chaplain, a vague old boy. Megan was a bit worried we might get the baby back stamped with a regimental number.

I should be able to have some leave soon and will be at the London flat. It's about time we did something about your coming of age.'

 

To: Major W. Bodie, Aldershot  
From: Mr R. Doyle, London  
'Dear Bodie,  
I hope you got back to the barracks safely and didn't sing 'Mother Macree' all the way. I would have never thought it of you. So that was young Lessing. He's very in awe of your over-braided self, isn't he? I don't see what Molly sees in him.  
Thank you for my coming of age party, it was well worth waiting for. Listen, I know your guardianship is officially over - I loved the bit where you handed me the key to my collar - but I don't think you should just give up your responsibilities like that, I have great potential still to go off the rails. Look at Edwin - no, don't, unless you feel like throwing up. So maybe you should continue in an 'unofficial capacity'?

I'm enclosing some tickets for the concert in case you can make it. I'd like one friendly face in the audience and I promise, no Sibelius.  
Ray'

 

To: Mr R. Doyle, London  
From: Major W. Bodie, Aldershot  
'Dear Ray,  
Great party, wasn't it? I enjoyed the bit where Harry constructed the champagne tower and it didn't quite work. Still, Megan says it doesn't stain so I'm not expecting a bill for the carpet. I'm glad Molly took the boy home early, we might have shocked him. He's in awe of me for two reasons: first, I'm his commanding officer; second, I'm the best damned soldier he's ever met!

About continuing as your guardian, yes, I agree you've got great potential - for practically anything.

Uncle was on the phone to me again about Edwin - another hazard of being back in England. It seems Edwin's propensity for signing cheques with insufficient funds in the bank is causing great despondency in the family.  
I will just be able to make the concert, unless something comes up here. We are expecting to move very shortly so it could be a close thing. I'll be damned annoyed if I do miss it. We are going on something called manoeuvres, which involves crawling miles in a semi-bog, I'm credibly informed. Harry won't be a bit pleased. I've already heard he is hating the cold, the damp, his feet and the fact they won't let him home to a nice warm fire and his wife. He is in a different depot to me. I still have young Lessing, it hardly seems a fair exchange.  
Bodie'

oOo

Doyle finished playing his new piece and sat back; he still felt unhappy with the arrangement. He got up with a sigh to make some tea and barked his shin painfully on the coffee table.

"Damn!" he said with feeling. He'd remembered Bodie's London flat as being cramped, now, with Aunt Alice's small piano filling the sitting room, movement was very tricky indeed. He had soon realised why the Grand piano had been dispatched to Anglesey - no way they could have got it up the stairs, let alone into the flat. 

"Why the hell did Bodie rent out Hellens," he muttered to himself. "Surely he could have found a housekeeper!"

Now, Ray, you're getting spoilt, he said to himself. It's very convenient for the concerts after all. I wonder where Bodie is now. He grinned at the photo on top of the piano; he had demanded, and received, an up-to-date photo, even if the sitter looked as though he was expecting to be called in for a dental extraction. 

The door bell rang. Doyle went to open it and found Dr Scarsdale standing there, breathing heavily.

"Good morning, Raymond. I see the lift is out of order again. Those stairs..." 

Dr Scarsdale sat down with relief as Doyle passed him a cup of tea. "Thank you. Ah, you are working on the new piece. How is it progressing?"

"I'm still not happy with it. The timing seems off. I'll get it eventually."

"Yes. Ray, if mobilisation is ordered, will you ask for a deferment? You are entitled to do so."

Doyle shrugged. "The Prime Minister says there isn't going to be any war. I heard it on the wireless."

"I wouldn't count on that," said the doctor. "Events are changing fast. Have you seen a newspaper recently?"

"No," said Doyle, "I've never bothered with them. Would you like more tea?"

"No, thank you. You'd better take a look at mine. I have to be off now, the military are going to take over the academy so I am hoping to transfer the rest of the students to a place we have been offered in Sussex - those that will be remaining if war is declared. I will call back in the week to discuss further concerts."

He left and Doyle sat down to finish his tea, then began to read the paper. The outlook did seem uncertain. He remembered listening to some of Bodie's army colleagues discussing events when he had called for him at his club recently; they'd seemed to think it was serious. Still, the paper also seemed confident it could all be settled soon.

Doyle was just folding the paper when he spotted a small item: 'Gainsborough makes record sales price'. He studied the small illustration. Wasn't that great-great-great-grandmother from Hellens? He read on. Apparently the painting had come on the market from the collection of an army officer serving in India. He knew Bodie's way of life could hardly be called extravagant so the only reason he would need money would be to pay for his musical education. Which was why Hellens had to be rented out, too. 

I've been a fool, he thought. I ought to write to Bodie. No, that would embarrass him. I wish I knew what he was doing. Back to work, he thought grimly and applied himself to the music.

oOo

A scrawled letter reached Doyle two days later.

'Dear Ray,  
Sorry I couldn't get in touch before and it's no good giving you my present address as it looks like being very temporary. Now we are on a war footing we could get moved out at any time. I managed to get in touch with Harry, he is expecting to be moved out too. Young Lessing and Molly were married last week. No crossed swords I'm afraid. They saw no point in a long engagement with things so uncertain. I agree with them. They are very happy.  
Molly send you her regards.

About that other matter, Ray, it's your life, you must decide for yourself. Let's face it, I was practically born in the army; it's my profession, no decision to make. I just wish you and all the others didn't have to choose. 

Did I tell you Captain Forbes exists? He made personal contact with us just before we left the station to say he wasn't coming as he'd passed retirement age. He looked like the Old Man of the Mountains. Harry was delighted because it confirmed all his suspicions. I've arranged to have Forbes' pension paid out there, there's no point him coming home to be signed off - it would be awkward transporting his three wives and twenty eight children too. 

Captain Harris - yes, Captain Harris! - wrote and told me they had taken over the station without incident and all was going well. Mickey was so startled at being promoted after all these years he hasn't touched a drop in months.  
Damn, I'm wanted. Regards,  
Bodie'

 

To: Mr R. Doyle  
From: Mrs M. Pritchard, Plas, Penmon, Anglesey.  
'Dear Ray,  
Have you heard anything from William? I know where Harry is now. I'd taken Tom with me into Bangor for the market and we went into the cinema - one of those awful cowboy films, you know how he loves them! Well, they had a newsreel. "It's Da!" yelled Tom, and there was my Harry boarding a ship for France. He looked thoroughly fed up. "He won't like that," I said, "you can't get him into a rowboat here, he doesn't like the motion."

I went to the manager afterwards and asked could he reshow it, there might be other women in the audience wondering where their husbands were, I said, so he did. I couldn't see William at all but in his last letter Harry said they couldn't serve together as there was a shortage of brilliant officers and they had to spread them out thin. You know what he's like!

The children send you their love and to tell you we all have our gas masks now. We have to put Muffy in hers, then I pump air in. I'm training Tom to do it, just in case, but he keeps laughing all the time and she hates the thing.

Aunt Mary buried her silver in the garden in case the Germans invaded Rhosybol. Invade, they'd never find it. Then she changed her mind and couldn't remember where she'd put it. Poor Idwal practically had to dig over the whole garden and he's never been one for hard work.

Your uncle must be relieved Edwin is back in the army, at least he knows what he's up to now.

I had a letter from Molly Lessing, worried about Richard, poor girl. I told her as he's with William he's sure to be all right. 

I must go now, the children want to go out and collect some 'salvage' for the war effort.  
Love,  
Megan'

oOo

Doyle sat listening to the news broadcasts, then pulled the atlas from the bookcase. Listening to the French station had been a mistake, it only make him more alarmed about the situation. Perhaps they were exaggerating? He looked at the Daily Express again. No, the map looked clear enough. The army seemed to be racing for the coast and if they made it and there was still the Channel to be crossed and if they didn't how many would be trapped in France?  
He'd met Molly's brother the previous week on his way back to the front and asked for news. Bill had shrugged. "All I can tell you, Ray, is Bodie will be hopping mad with the top brass, there'd better be some heads rolling after this lot." Then he'd left. 

Doyle looked at the time, he'd better be off, he just had one more engagement to fulfil: the doctor would be back in a few days and he needed to talk to him.

oOo

"I think the buggers have got the range at last, Bodie," said Harry, spitting out a mouthful of sand.

"It's taken them long enough," said Bodie with a professional's implied criticism.

"Just be thankful for their incompetence, boy," said Harry. "And pray it lasts. I don't think much of this trench of yours, by the way, bit inadequate isn't it?"

"You can go and dig yourself another if you like," said Bodie. "I'm quite happy with it."

"Bugger," said Harry. "Bloody Stukes are coming back. That's my lot being called now. See you, William." He moved off with his men.

Bodie watched them go; the shelling was getting worse.

"Major Bodie, gather your men. We can't hold this area much longer. Move farther down the beach."

It was another six hours before they got on a boat. Dawn was breaking as they finally limped into an English port. Bodie was just packing up what was left of his kit when a Welsh voice said:

"Knew I'd not get rid of the bloody Irishman."

"Harry!" said Bodie. "What the hell are you doing on this tub?"

"Got bloody shipwrecked," said Harry. "Had to beach the damn thing. Then that fool Caruthers blew the ammunition dump while we were still nearly on top of it. 'Thought you'd all gone,' he said with that vacant look of his. 'Listen you,' I said, when my ears stopped ringing, 'when this is over I'm going to nail your ears to the nearest wall!'"

"He always was an impetuous lad," said Bodie. "How are the feet?"

"I lost contact with them days ago. God, land. Best thing I've seen in weeks. See you in the harbour, Bodie. I'd better get the lads together."

"Harry!" a voice called. They both turned; a small dark haired woman was pushing her way through the crowd.

"Megan! Cariad!" cried Harry, sweeping her into the arms.

Bodie smiled at them, then realised Ray was standing there, staring at him. "Ray, I didn't expect you to be here."

"I brought Megan down. We heard some of the ships from Dunkirk would be in here."

"We have to report in," said Bodie. "I'll get in touch with you later."

"Bodie, are you all right?" Ray was still staring.

Bodie glanced down at his heavily bandaged arm. "Yes, this is just a flesh wound. I have to get my men settled in." He looked about vaguely.

Doyle moved closer and touched his hand. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it," he said.

Megan looked round. "You haven't Dick with you then?"

"No," said Harry. "He won't be coming back, love."

"Oh, Harry, that poor girl." Megan hugged her husband fiercely.

"Damn, we have to go," said Harry. "Thank you for bringing her down, Ray. We'll be out of the barracks first chance we get."

Bodie nodded briefly to Ray, then walked to where the companies were being lined up.

Doyle looked at Megan, who was wiping her eyes. 

"Lovely to have them back," she said. "Come on, Ray love. Let's go and have some tea."

oOo

Dr Scarsdale called at the flat next day to report that the academy had been successfully evacuated to its new home in Sussex and to discuss the news.

"It was a great achievement to get so many men off, Ray," he remarked. "You hear that Molly Chapman's husband was killed? Richard Lessing, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Doyle. "I met him once at a party. I hope Bodie can get leave soon, he looked awful when I saw him at the dock. Hell, I've got to go out now."

The doctor accompanied him. When Doyle returned hours later, Bodie was sitting by the fire, glass in hand, a half empty whiskey bottle on the table.

"Bodie! I'll make you some tea. Why didn't you ring?" He moved too quickly and banged his shin on the coffee table. "Damn! I don't know how you stand this place, Bodie. It's so bloody small!"

"Suits me," said Bodie. "If you don't like it, Doyle, take yourself off to the Ritz bar. Plenty of room there - full of fat profiteering slugs, mind." He refilled his glass. 

Doyle blinked, then, not knowing what to do, began to chatter. "Getting dark, I have to remember to put up the blackout, which is a pain. And I lost my ration book last week. Had to fill in three forms to get - "

"Will you bloody shut up!" yelled Bodie. "I've lost half my company in France and all you do is prattle on about a bloody ration book. Hasn't it got through your stupid, empty head yet, Doyle. There's a war on out there!" He stopped and began to shake. "Oh, hell...I...." He realised there that there were tears streaming down his face and tried to stop them. Then he felt Doyle's arms around him. He was tired of being strong and silent so, for the first time since he was a small boy Bodie cried his heart out.

Doyle settled them both on the sofa, rubbing his back. 

Bodie finally pulled himself together, blew his nose hard and retreated to the bathroom. When he returned Doyle had a large mug of tea waiting for him.

"I'm sorry, Ray I didn't mean...too much whiskey."

"Look," said Doyle, "it's my fault. I didn't know what to say to you so I just babbled. Sit down before you fall down."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I went to see Molly," said Bodie. "She just sat there, staring at the baby. He never saw him. Dick was caught in crossfire. We got him to a dressing station but it was no good. He'd done well, grown up a lot. He was twenty four, not much older than you." He stopped.

Doyle got up and began to fix the blackout and dim the lights. "Come on, William, bed. How long have you got?"

"Till tomorrow afternoon...no, the day after," said Bodie, yawning widely. "Look, I don't want to... I'm not tired," he insisted.

Doyle shook his head. "Bed!" he said firmly. "If you're good I'll bring you Ovaltine and read you a story."

"Yuck," said Bodie. "Where are you going to sleep?" He looked at the sofa.

"Never mind that," said Doyle. "Do as you're told for once."

Bodie settled down and Doyle handed him a well-laced glass of hot milk, which he sipped appreciatively. He fell asleep at once. Doyle dimmed the bedroom lights and went back into the sitting room. He was just settling down when he heard movement and a crash. He went in to find Bodie sitting up and looking about him.

"You all right?" asked Doyle.

Bodie nodded. "Nightmare. I woke myself up and knocked the lamp over."

Doyle picked it up. "Shift up, I'm staying till you're properly asleep. You don't mind?"

"No, I could do with the company. Tell me what you've been doing. God, I'm tired." Bodie yawned again. 

Doyle began to talk in a low voice and continued until he realised Bodie was now soundly asleep. He lay there, thinking.

He'd realised some time ago that his feelings for his guardian were growing stronger. From the beginning he had liked Bodie, much against his will: Bodie had stood for everything he disliked.

I'm just behaving like a girl with a crush, he'd told himself bitterly. Then he had finally admitted to himself that he loved Bodie. It had been a shock; not the fact itself - in his early life such relationships were common knowledge to him - but he knew how they were viewed in Bodie's social sphere. It was hopeless and when Bodie's engagement to Molly had been announced he had accepted it and hoped they would be happy. Molly could give Bodie everything he couldn't: a home, children, her wholehearted devotion. He had felt she was rather young for him, and that they weren't really suited, but their fondness for each other could have made it work.

After that had come Alice's death, Bodie's return to India and his own travels. He had spent the last few weeks desperately afraid for Bodie, not knowing if he were still alive, or if he would be a prisoner in France. Then, seeing him on the deck, still mentally back on the shell- torn beaches, he had wanted to take him in his arms.

Doyle slipped his hand into Bodie's and squeezed gently. There was an answering pressure. Doyle smiled, then fell asleep himself.

 

The next morning the old Bodie was back. Doyle watched with amusement as he combed his hair back for the sixth time and adjusted his cap at the proper angle, then straightened his tunic - again.

"You know, Bodie," he remarked, "I swear if that tunic was one centimetre off, or your buttons weren't shining to the correct lustre, you'd be ill."

"Sloppy dress shows a sloppy state of mind, " said Bodie in his best parade ground matter.

Doyle got up and walked round inspecting him. "Strewth! The chocolate box soldier," he remarked. "I bet even your boot insteps are polished."

Bodie casually lifted one foot.

"You're stark, staring mad," said Doyle. "Have you go to go now?"

"Yes, I'll be given some proper leave shortly. There's too much to sort out now. Come on, we can walk to St. James's Park - take the long way round. I'll still be there in time."

oOo

Doyle walked out of the cinema; the scene of the German Army's victory parade through Paris had shaken him. "Bastards," he muttered. He wondered about his many friends there. What would become of them?

After a quiet leave Bodie was now back with his regiment and quite his old self again. Harry was still with his family in Anglesey. 

Doyle walked to the park and stood there, looking across the lake. His deferrment had been granted but... He thought of William; war was his profession, and he had no one who would grieve for him - except himself. But Harry had a family he adored. It didn't seem right. Doyle knew whatever he decided Bodie would never censure him and no one else's opinion mattered. The decision was up to him alone. He nodded and walked off briskly.

oOo

Dr Scarsdale greeted Doyle and poured out some tea.

"I went to the cinema," said Ray. "Watched them marching through Paris."

"Yes," said the doctor, "an unhappy sight. I had hoped this would not happen again in my lifetime."

"My mother hated wars," said Doyle. "Her two brothers died in the last one, Alice's husband on the Somme. I feel like she did about it, but I can't see any other way now. I got this form from the R.A.F. Recruiting Office, help me fill it in will you? I didn't fancy the army - all that bull. I swear Bodie would still be brassoing his buttons if there were shells falling all around him. Except that's why he became an officer, so someone else had to do it for him."

"Raymond, are you sure? You do understand what is involved? You have your deferrment and could possibly be granted another."

"Yeah, I know," said Doyle. "I don't like it but it's go to be done. Can you get me one of those dummy keyboards to practise on? I can take with me."

"Of course," said the doctor. "Now, let's look at this form. Well, your maths are very good, you could try for navigation. You developed a real aptitude for them I remember."

"Had to," said Doyle. "Bodie said no pass in maths, no cinema! I had this terrible passion for films like 'They Died With Their Boots On'. Mind you, I thought Bodie, bless him, could knock spots off Errol Flynn."

"I hope you never told him so," murmured the doctor smiling.

"I did once, he nearly choked on his chocolate cake." Doyle grinned. "He never sees himself as the hero type."

"No," said Doctor Scarsdale. "William is much too sensible for that. Now, let's see. Name, Raymond Doyle, address...?"

"Put down Megan's," said Doyle. "There's always someone there. You'll need my birth certificate. Will it matter that I'm a bas -"

"No!" said Dr Scarsdale. "You don't have to be legitimate to fight for your country, at least not in the R.A.F. Now, who do you want as your next of kin, William or your uncle?"

"Hell, no," said Doyle. "Put down William and Mrs Pritchard, they are my real family."

"Well, there you are," said the doctor. "Now, let me know your address and I'll get that keyboard to you."

"I have to get in touch with Bodie, too," muttered Doyle. "He's in the middle of Salisbury Plain, I think, being secretive about his movements again."

"Er, Raymond, " said the doctor, "you do know in war time that letters are opened and censored, don't you?"

"Oh," said Doyle. "O.K. I'll be careful."

oOo

Bodie sat down with relief. Two solid months of manoeuvres, again on a muddy plain, had left him very stiff indeed; while the mud had cleaned off, he was doubtful if his leg muscles would ever recover. He picked up his mail. Now, who was this from? Ah, Megan. He started to read, then sat up straight. What was Ray playing at? If he had to get into the war then surely the army was...he tried to think of Ray in the army, then gave up. Maybe he was right.

Harry had been in touch, the British weather was doing nothing for his feet. That was a relief, if Harry was on about his feet nothing much else was wrong with him.

There was a call for Bodie, he reluctantly put down his mail and answered it, his joints protesting strongly.

"I see you're used to dealing with native troops, Major Bodie?"

"Yes, sir. On the frontier."

"Good. They want to see you at headquarters in London."

oOo

Bodie looked round for a telephone; as usual they were all engaged. He walked round to his club and called Plas. Megan should be there. She answered.

"William! Where are you?"

"London. I'm trying to get in touch with Ray. I could be leaving the country soon and I'd like to see him, do you know where he is?"

"At your flat on leave. I had a letter from him."

"Good, I'll get over there now. Heard from Harry?"

"Yes. Ray has all the news. There's the pips. Goodbye William."

Bodie put the phone down. No point in rushing over, Ray could have made arrangements to go out. He made his way across London, noticing the signs of damage but the building housing his flat seemed undamaged. He made his way up to the flat and heard the piano as he reached the door. He smiled, searching for his key. When he entered, Doyle, muttering, was opening the piano to tune it.

Bodie stood and looked at him. "I see you finally got your hair cut," he remarked.

"Yeah," said Doyle. "Just like the reformatory - and the food's nearly as bad. When did you last have this tuned, it's well out?"

Bodie slipped off his great coat. "Anything to drink here?"

"If there is, I haven't been able to find it. There, I think that's got it." Doyle sat down and began to play again. "If you're thinking of making tea, I'd like one."

Bodie paused. "I outrank you," he remarked.

"Fuck that," said Doyle. "Tell you what, I'll do the cooking. Got anything to cook with you?"

Bodie looked in his bag. "A half bottle of whiskey and a packet of biscuits, broken. Come on, let's eat out, then we can talk."

 

Bodie looked at his plate with distaste. "Whatever that was, it tasted disgusting."

"You should try the stuff that comes out of our cookhouse," said Doyle. "Spoilt you are."

"Ray, I'm leaving the country very shortly," said Bodie later, over a quiet drink.

"Where to, can you tell me?"

"No. You'll see it in the papers soon enough. I wanted to see you before I left. I wish you weren't in this."

Doyle shrugged. "No choice, it had to be done, and don't go giving me that rubbish about it being all right for you and Harry."

Bodie smiled. "Let's go home, you can play for your supper."

 

Doyle finished the piece and looked across, smiling. "Thought you'd enjoy that. Pass me some of that whiskey, would you?"

Bodie filled his glass. Doyle sipped it slowly, looking at him. 

He's looking at me as if I'm the biggest present on his Christmas tree, he thought, and we have no time to waste, not now.

"Bodie," he said, "we haven't time to play games with each other. I've been in love with you for some time, and I think you are with me. So can we please get to bed before the siren goes?"

There was a silence, Bodie got up and walked into the kitchen. Doyle, alarmed, followed him. Had he spoilt everything?

"Bodie, I am right?"

Bodie turned and grinned at him. "Yes, I'm just filling up a hot water bottle, you'll freeze in there otherwise now they've turned down the heating."

Doyle glared at him. "You damned - You did that on purpose!"

"Go on," said Bodie. "Let's hear the news, then we'll have an early night."

They sat listening to the news, admitting to each other afterwards they couldn't recall a single item.

"Holding hands like idiots," snorted Bodie, still keeping hold of Doyle's. "Pity they cut your hair," he said sentimentally.

"Think they used hedge clippers on it," said Doyle. "Reminded me of the reformatory."

Bodie smiled. "You were a sight; skinny little wretch, standing there, defying us all."

"Still took me on, didn't you," said Doyle. "I couldn't stand you at first, then I decided you were a combination of Robin Hood and Lawrence of Arabia."

"My god!" said Bodie. "I hope you still don't think that!"

"Naw," said Doyle, "you get over the childish infatuations. Now you're just Bodie."

"I'm pleased to hear it," said Bodie. "Now you can go and make some tea."

"Right," said Doyle, and proceeded to do so.

Bodie raised an eyebrow. "No argument?" he said.

"No, I'll be quicker about it than you."

They took their mugs into the bedroom. Bodie felt beneath the sheets. "Reasonable, but I'd advise you to leave your socks on," he said.

Doyle sighed. "I knew it, the last of the great romantics. I bet if you had Mata Hari in here you'd be advising her to leave her vest on."

Bodie thought about it a moment. "Yes, I would, there's nothing romantic about chattering teeth. You can leave yours on if you like."

Doyle climbed cautiously into the bed, then gasped. "Bodie, hurry up, it's cold!"

Bodie slipped in beside him. "Hell, it's freezing. Keep those icy feet to yourself, Doyle. Good thing we brought the tea in."

"Bodie, I'd better tell you something," Doyle began hesitantly, "you won't be bedding any virgin, if you're worried. Then you might not fancy..." he stopped.

"What are you on about?" said Bodie. "Go on, Ray, tell me."

"Pretty kid, wasn't I?" said Doyle. "In the reformatory - some of the big lads fancied me and I couldn't do too much about it, there were too many of them. Stuck a knife in one of them later on. Then some of his mates pushed me over the staircase rail. That's how I got this," he touched his face.

Bodie was quite for a moment. "You could have been killed! You're not afraid I'll hurt you?"

"No," Doyle said, "you won't hurt me. It doesn't matter, it was a long time ago..."

"Bloody hell, of course it matters!" said Bodie. "I wish I could go back and rase that fucking place to the ground and every fucking soul in it."

"That's my Bodie," said Doyle happily. "Take on the world for me, you would. It's nice and mutual. Thank God, it's getting warmer..."

 

"You know," said Doyle dreamily, "you're lovely and warm and solid."

"You make me sound like a sofa," grumbled Bodie. "You're all elbows and knees and they're sharp and bony," he complained. "But I expect I'll learn to live with them."

"I like the sound of that," said Doyle. "It sounds permanent."

"Siren," said Bodie. "You want to go to the shelter?"

"Not on your life!" said Doyle with conviction. "I've just got warm. Besides, we couldn't do this in the shelter."

"True!" said Bodie, returning his kiss with enthusiasm.

 

It was growing light when Bodie next awoke. He slipped out quietly so as not to disturb Doyle, put the kettle on, then washed and shaved. When he went back into the bedroom Doyle was peering round bleerily.

"You look like a drunken owl chick," said Bodie, passing him a cup of tea.

Doyle extended a shaking hand for the cup. "I hope you're not always this bright in the morning," he remarked. "Could make me change my mind about you."

Bodie grinned at him. "Well, how does your old man look this morning?"

Doyle grinned back. "Damned good. I wish I didn't have to go back today."

"What time?" asked Bodie.

"I have to get the three o'clock train."

"We haven't time to waste then," Bodie said briskly. "Come on, get up. Good walk round the park, lunch in town, then back here and I'll see you on the train."

"Yes, sir!" said Doyle snapping off a salute.

Bodie winced. "Haven't you learned to do that properly, yet?"

 

"I just wish we could have had more time," said Doyle as they walked to the station.

"Yes," said Bodie, "I feel that way myself. Look after yourself, Ray."

"Me look after myself!" said Doyle with vigour. "I didn't get myself posted to God-forsaken holes in the middle of nowhere, getting shot all the time. You have to take care of yourself, you've got responsibilities now."

"Eh?" said Bodie.

"Me," said Doyle.

"That's true," said Bodie. "Your train's in."

Doyle climbed aboard and they talked until the whistle sounded. Doyle snapped off a perfect salute which Bodie returned as the train moved away. He was just watching it out of sight when he heard his name.

"William?" He turned to find Molly Lessing there, in uniform with a large bag. "I saw you saying goodbye to Ray," she said. "I didn't know he was in the R.A.F."

Bodie looked at her bag. "Leaving or arriving?"

"Arriving. I have twenty four hours leave. Father is away and it's too far to travel to Monica's - Bill's wife - so I thought I'd stay with Aunt in Kensington. You remember her?"

Bodie nodded.

"Are you on leave too?" she asked.

"Till tomorrow morning. Have you had a long journey?"

"Yes, it was pretty grim, the train was held up a few times. At least I managed to sleep."

"When did you last eat?" asked Bodie.

"No idea. Yesterday, I think. No buffet, they told us there was a war on."

"Right, dump that bag," said Bodie, "we are going for a meal. Unless you want to rush over to your aunt's?" Molly shook her head firmly. "Thought so. Come on then, you can tell me all the news. How is Bill?"

They ate at the nearest British Restaurant, talking of mutual friends.

"I hear Edwin is quite the reformed character," said Molly.

"Let's say he doesn't have access to any cheque books at the moment," said Bodie. "Now, shall I escort you to Kensington or a show?"

"Oh, William, a show would be lovely. Can we get in the latest Ivor Novello one?"

"We can try," said Bodie, wincing. "But not a word to Ray, he despises them. Aunt took him to one in the village and he drove her mad muttering all through it."

"Ray," said Molly, "is a musical snob. You'd better lend me your hanky, I went through four when we saw 'Bitter Sweet', remember?"

They emerged from the theatre with Molly very pink-eyed. "That was lovely," she sighed.

"Hum," said Bodie.

"You were sniffling too, don't deny it," she said with spirit.

"Only because you had my last spare handkerchief. Now, what about a dance at the Starlight Club, then I'll take you home to Kensington."

"William, this is the last night of your leave and I'd love to."

"Good."

 

When they were sitting at a side table watching the floor show, Molly said: "I'd like to know - you've found someone who's right for you, haven't you? You keep going off into a sort of happy daze." She smiled at him.

"Yes, I have," Bodie said quietly.

"Good. I'm very glad. Just see you get back to them, my dear. I couldn't stay out of the war. Aunt thinks I should stay home, look after Peter and knit. But I can't. He's very happy with Monica, they have no children of their own and they adore him. So if anything should happen to me he will be well taken care of. You understand?"

Bodie looked at her insignia and nodded. "Yes. One last turn about the dance floor, then I must get you home. Your aunt will be having a fit, it's after three. I'm afraid I'm still a lousy dancer."

"Come on," said Molly. "By the way, you still have devastating blue eyes. And you still blush!"

"Villain," said Bodie. "I'll tread all over your feet for that."

 

They walked back to Kensington talking quietly.

"What time do you leave, William?"

"Eight o'clock, from Victoria."

"I wish I could have seen you off but a cousin is calling for me to visit relatives. Oh damn, we've arrived."

A window flew up over their heads as they banged on the door.

"Molly, is that you? Do you know what time it is? Where have you been?"

"No, Aunt, what is the time? I've been out with a soldier. That will bring her down," she muttered. "She believes all those tales of licentious soldiery."

"Why not?" said Bodie. "They're all true."

"Idiot." She hugged him. They could hear Aunt struggling with the door.

"Molly, love," said Bodie. They kissed as Aunt finally got her door open.

"Molly!"

"It's all right Aunt. The Major and I are just good friends."

"Very good friends," said Bodie, saluting. "Safe journey, Officer Lessing."

"And to you, sir," said Molly, returning the salute. They hugged again and she went inside.

Bodie turned and began to make his way back to his flat to pack for his journey.

oOo

Seven months later Doyle stretched wearily as he looked through the pile of newspapers and magazines strewn on the table. Something to read might help him to sleep.

"Ray, any 'News of the World' in that lot?"

Doyle looked up. "A few bits, looks like it's all been separated out, Jack. Here you are." He handed over some mangled sheets of newsprint.

Jack looked at the fragments resentfully. "Sods, all the best bits are gone. Here's that magazine my mum combs through every week to see if our Ralph's won a medal. She's sure he will."

"I thought he was in the Catering Corps," said Doyle.

"He is. It says we are doing well here. Only a couple of reverses, minor of course. Nice to know that, isn't it? No, our Ralph's not got one this time. Good night, Ray - or is it morning! Night operations send you all to pot."

Doyle picked up the magazine. 'Wonder if Bodie's lot are in here?' He knew Bodie was in North Africa but that covered a hell of a lot of ground. He turned the pages idly, yawning. No, nothing but...'Woman Officer M.R. Lessing, daughter of Major General Chapman (Ret.), has been killed on active service in Occupied France. She has been posthumously awarded...' Doyle sat down and stared at the report.

Molly...

He couldn't believe it at first. He remembered her at his 'late coming of age' party, telling him of her plans for 'my Richard' and their life together. And now... 

'I wonder if Bodie knows. Id better write to her father, or go and see him.' He yawned. 'Have to go to bed before they sound that damn thing again.'

It seemed he had hardly been asleep when he was shaken awake.

"Come on, Doyle, or we'll go without you."

He pulled his boots on and hurried out. 'Write to Megan when I get back,' he thought.

oOo

"Major Bodie." He turned as the junior office hurried up to him. "There's a message for you, in the office, sir."

Bodie swatted the flies away and strolled over. It was his first day back from the front, perhaps some of his mail had caught up with him at last. It would be good to find out what had been going on at home. He was handed an official envelope: he looked at it and went cold, knowing...

He opened it slowly.

'We regret to inform you Flight Sergeant R. Doyle is missing, believed killed in action.' He stood there a moment, then slipped it into his tunic pocket.

 

That evening, in the mess, the Brigadier looked round the table. "It feels like a morgue in here. You play that thing, don't you, Bodie?" He gestured at the piano.

"Yes, sir," said Bodie.

"Well, give us a tune, will you. Something cheerful."

Much later, when they had all left, Bodie got up and turned off the main lights. Then, returning to the piano, he began to play the piece Doyle had insisted upon for his audition.

"For you, Ray," said Bodie.

oOo

The police officer looked with distaste at the scruffy figure standing before him. "He was picked up from a fishing boat with some French nationals," the sergeant was saying. "He claims to be an RAF officer, escaped from France. He was rattling away like a native to those Frenchies. Could be a spy."

Doyle swore loudly. He was cold, fed up and exuded a strong odour of fish. "Look," he said, "my uncle lives near here, ring up the old bas - gentleman, he'll vouch for me. And I could do with a cup of tea."

 

Roused at 3 a.m., Bodie's uncle was not amused. He listened to Doyle's description. "He must have deserted," he remarked loudly.

Doyle reached over and grabbed the telephone. "Look, you bloody old fool, I've had a rotten time. Will you identify me for these idiots!" He said much more too.

When the telephone had been prised back, his uncle confirmed in shaken tones that it was definitely Raymond Doyle.

"Now," said Doyle, "will you get my station on the phone and tell them I'm back."

They did so. 

"Yes," the sergeant looked up. "Get him his tea and a bath. They want him on the next train after he's had a good meal. Sorry, sir," he said to Doyle. "We have to be careful. Some very funny people have been landing lately. You've been reported missing, you know."

"Bloody hell," said Doyle. "They'd better tell my relatives damn quick that I'm not. Can I use that phone?" He picked it up. "Get me Anglesey 247," he ordered the exchange.

"It's 4 a.m., sir," said the constable worriedly.

"What about my tea?" said Doyle. "I'd have done better staying in France!"

Megan's sleepy voice answered. "Who is it? Ray!" she yelled happily. They chatted for a moment, then Doyle replaced the phone and grabbed his tea, which had finally arrived.

"We've arranged a bath and a hot meal at the house next door, sir," he was told. "You can have a sleep, too. The next train isn't until two this afternoon."

"Good," said Doyle. "I'll be glad to get my head down."

oOo

To: Major W. Bodie, somewhere in the Middle East  
From: Flight Sergeant R. Doyle  
'Dear Sir,  
They informed me I could write to you here and it would reach whatever hole you were fighting in. Saw some of it on a newsreel. Why does anyone want the place?

I hope the buggers were as quick telling you I was OK as they were telling you I was missing. I don't know what happened to the others, I jumped when ordered after the plane had a bad hit. I know a couple jumped after me but it was a terrible night and I didn't see them again. I landed in a bloody wood. When I was clear in the morning it seemed a good idea to head for the coast, I had a vague idea where I was. There were a couple of hairy moments but I was always good at escaping from places. Sandersons did that for me. Then I ran into some Frenchmen who gave me a lift to the coast. Good blokes, some came over with me in a smelly fishing smack. I never want to look a herring in the face again. Then that bloody uncle of yours suggested I was AWOL. I got a bit peeved about that and told him what I thought of him. That's when I was trying to convince the local flic I wasn't a spy! 

Anyway, the base seemed pleased to have me back, they needed someone to bash the piano for some do or other. Wish they'd stop spilling beer into it, does nothing for the tone.

Ah, I've just heard one of the others has turned up, he had to come home via Spain. He said the others are dead or captured. I was lucky. Megan says you know about Molly. They let me home on leave, so I went to see her father. He's taken it hard, as you'd expect. Her other brother, Colin, was captured before Dunkirk. I didn't know what to say.  
Funny thing, her father served in France in the first lot in the same place I walked through on my way home. He asked how it had changed. Molly's little lad was there, he looks very like her.

I could tell you a funny story but I understand a bloke goes through the letters with a big blue pencil and he wouldn't like it.  
Regards,  
R. Doyle'

 

To: Flight Sergeant R. Doyle, R.A.F., England.  
From: Major W. Bodie  
'Dear Ray,  
They got a message through to me that you'd turned up again like a bad penny. Molly's brother Bill saw to that. I must thank him when we next meet. I'm glad you went to see her father. When I last saw her I knew she was going on a dangerous mission; you couldn't have talked her out of it. After Richard was killed she didn't care anymore.

I see you've been promoted - you'll make the old boys who've made good list at Sandersons yet. Not a chance for me after I set fire to the chemistry lab: my father said it was a subtle ploy to get expelled. It wasn't, I just mixed two chemicals which had what they call a volatile reaction.

I don't care much for the desert myself, keep wishing we had a team of mules. By the way, large lumps of your letters always seem to be missing. You must tell me one day what on earth you said!

I have to go now and do some more of my Lawrence of Arabia bit, and no, it isn't a bit like Beau Geste!  
Bodie'

oOo

"You ever stop to work out how many missions you must have flown by now, Ray?" Jack asked curiously.

Doyle looked up from sorting his maps. "No, they just all seem to blur into the other. The only one that sticks in the mind is the one I had to walk back from. I still remember the smell of those fish! Even dreamt about them. Here's the skipper now. Think I should be due for leave soon - I'd like to get back to Plas, see how my piano is getting on."

 

The plane took off. One thing about navigating, Doyle had decided, was that you were so busy you didn't have time to worry much. 

They dropped their load and had turned for home when it happened.

"Heavy flak ahead," said Jack.

Suddenly the plane rocked violently. Doyle felt something hit and he was on the floor; he began to struggle to his feet. Everything was tilting and swaying and there was the most god awful pain in his leg and a spreading, warm wetness. He crawled back into his seat and heard himself say quite calmly:

"I think I've been hit. Are you all right, Jack?"

"Yeah, let's take a look." Jack swore. "Ray, I'm going to have to tie something round this, you're bleeding badly. You okay otherwise?"

"Yes, tie it off good, will you," said Doyle. "I have to get us home."

It seemed to go on forever as he checked and rechecked the course, working on mechanically. The pain came in waves. If he could just hang on a little longer... Then someone was touching him.

"Ray, we can see the field now. You're almost home."

"Put her down gently," he muttered, and closed his eyes.

He hardly felt the thud as they landed and next found himself looking up at someone. They seemed to be speaking to him and he tried to concentrate.

"It's all right now, Doyle. We are taking you to the hospital, you did well."

"Good," said Ray, and quietly fainted.

oOo

"Mrs Pritchard, is it?" asked the doctor.

"Yes," said Megan, looking up. "How is he?"

"He's come through the operation quite well. We think we've managed to save his leg. Time will tell. He was very worried that we wouldn't contact a Major Bodie who is down with you as his next of kin."

"He's out in the Middle East," said Megan. "Ray wouldn't want him to be worried. And he couldn't get here anyway. May I see him?"

"Well it may be some time yet before he's conscious."

"I'll wait," said Megan.

oOo

To: Major H. Pritchard, Baghdad  
From: Mrs M. Pritchard  
'Dear Harry,  
I can't get hold of William's address, so will you let him know, if you can, that Ray has been injured. He's in hospital but is going on well. His leg was badly damaged but he still has it thank goodness. They are getting him up on his feet soon. I'm trying to persuade them to let him come to Plas to convalesce. He won't be comfortable in that small flat with all those stairs.

By the way, what are you doing in Baghdad? And don't give me all that malarkey about being in the Secret Service, I know you Harry Pritchard! It doesn't sound much of a place from your letter.

Did I tell you about Winifred and her trouble? Well ...'

oOo

Bodie climbed stiffly down from the truck. "Well, Owen, I hope this is going to be worth that ride," he remarked. "Try and get me a room with a bath this time, will you? We should be through about 1600 hours, I'll see you at the hotel."

"Yes, sir," Captain Owen drove off.

Bodie walked across the road to the headquarters. "Lt-Col. Bodie reporting," he announced. "Is the washroom repaired yet?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid it's still that temporary place at the back."

"I see. Where is the meeting being held?"

"Through that door along the corridor, sir, then first on the right. "

"Thank you." Muttering 'bloody inefficient' under his breath, Bodie walked off. He was already hot, tired, sweaty and had no great hopes of any constructive plan coming out of the meeting; finding Clive there, resplendant in his military attaché's uniform, was the last straw.

Bodie looked at him without enthusiasm. 'He never was one to get his hands dirty,' he thought to himself.

"Ah, William. It has been a long time, congratulations on your promotion."

"Yes," said Bodie, "it has."

"Ah," said Clive. "Heard you had it a bit rough out here. There are times when I wish I was out there with you chaps in the thick of it."

With considerable effort Bodie restrained himself from suggesting that in that case Clive could always join 'you chaps' but then, with his luck, he might get Clive in his Company. "We'd have done better with less foul-ups on top," he said.

"Er, yes. I've read your report. It's not very tactful, but then you never were a political animal, were you, William? Still, I always say you Indian Army fellows are the salt of the earth."

Bodie received that remark with resentment; he just hadn't the patience for Clive at the moment. "Uncle well?" he asked finally.

"Father? Oh, yes. Now, there's a funny thing," Clive waffled on. "That ward of yours - Doyle. Heard about him, did you?"

"No," said Bodie. "What about him?"

"Wounded on a bombing raid - quite badly, I heard. Stuck to his post, went on with whatever he was doing. Surprising really, with his background. You must have done wonders with him, William, you can be proud."

"I've always been proud of Ray," said Bodie, after counting slowly to ten. "I would have expected nothing less of him. Do you know how he is?"

Clive looked vague. "In hospital, I suppose. Had a mention anyway. Father told me. He was surprised. Ah, here's the general now."

The meeting was long and, at times, acrimonious. When it was finally over Bodie and a colleague adjoined to the hotel bar.

"All we needed to make a lousy day complete," said Bodie, "was to have to endure the schoolboy rhetoric of Colonel, The Honourable Clive Hadleigh. By the way, Rob, we are the salt of the earth, us Indian Army chaps."

"Oh, Bully," said Major James. "I hope you were properly deferential, William?"

"Sod that!" said Bodie. "Pity Rommel can't counter attack and catch the bastard before he flies out," he added wistfully. "Give him a whole new perspective that would."

"Lull Rommel into a false sense of security too!" said Major James. "Could be a good plan that, Bodie. We could forward it at the next meeting, or arrange to have him dropped behind their lines."

They chuckled a moment. "Another drink, Bodie?"

"No, I'm off to have a bath. Captain Owen found me a room with one. There's a packet of mail waiting for me. Meet you later, okay?"

"Yes, down here, then we can work on our plan to shorten the desert war," said Major James, ordering himself another double.

Bodie thoughtfully did the same, then took the drink with him. He went up to his room and inspected the bath; it had seen better days but was centipede free and had warm water in the taps. He filled it, then immersed himself with a sigh of relief, leaning over to pick up his mail and glass of whisky.

'Getting into bad habits, William,' he told himself, as he prised open the first envelope. 'I'll have to find out where Ray is afterwards. I wonder what Harry's doing there?' 

He opened the other envelope. 'Ray!' It was short and scrawled but the best news Bodie had read in a long time.

'Dear Sir,  
Don't worry about the address on the top, they will be throwing me out as soon as I stop falling over all the time. Leg's a bit shaky but it's still mine, thank goodness. I'm going to the flat, then Bill is taking me over to Megan's for a holiday. I don't think the RAF will be keen to have me back, the doctor says no way can I be passed for air crew again. I don't see why, I sit down all the time, for heaven's sake! Anyway, they are giving me a good leave, so I'll be able to get to know our piano again.

It's pretty boring in here. I even offered to play the piano at the Friday hop - just for something to do. The piano is unspeakable. 

By the way, think I saw you on a newsreel, standing on a truck yelling at someone. Shorts aren't you, you know. Hope the little man with the blue pencil won't be offended by that.

The pills they give us here make everyone woozy, some say it's the bromide. Don't know why they bother, the night sisters all have faces like hatchets.

Grub's awful but Megan, bless her, sees I get a food parcel now and again. Saved some lives in this ward that has.  
Regards,  
Ray'

oOo

"I'm sorry, Doyle. There is no way you can continue in the Service." Doyle's commanding officer looked at him sympathetically.

"I navigate sitting down, don't I," said Doyle. "I'm not a bleeding commando, after all!"

"It's no good, the medical board went over your case very carefully. You cannot go on flight duties and you are also unfit for ground work. We need every man here to be fully fit."

"Yes, I know." Doyle shrugged. "All right, hand me my bowler hat then. I'll have to find something else to do, won't I?"

His commanding officer smiled. "I'm sure you will! We will be sorry to lose you. Good luck, Doyle."

Doyle limped off to his hut. 

Jack looked up. "No luck, Ray?"

"No. Had my marching orders, I'm just picking up my stuff, then signing out. Usual red tape."

"Have you somewhere to stay? My mum would put you up till you're settled?"

"Thanks, but I have a flat in London. I'm staying with a friend first, see if he can find me something to do. I'm going to miss this and you lot."

"Crackers, that's what you are," said Jack. "You can get back to that piano of yours now. We'll miss you at the hops, you're the only one who can keep ours in tune. Come on, let's see about a twenty-four hour pass, Dave and I are going to see you out in style."

oOo

Dr Scarsdale looked down at Doyle. "I trust you feel better now, Raymond?"

Doyle, his eyes screwed up against the light, moaned.

"I see. Well try this, Desmond swears by it as a restorative." He pressed a glass into Doyle's hand.

He swallowed the contents. "Hell! What was in that?" he asked, when he could speak again.

"Believe me, Raymond, you wouldn't want to know," said the doctor.

Doyle did not press the question. "How did I get here?" he asked .

"You were delivered by two young men in R.A.F. uniform, you had given them my address before you - er -"

" - passed out?" said Doyle.

"Quite. I gathered from them that you are now a civilian?"

"Yeah. Have to think of what to do next."

"I suggest a good night's sleep and some rest before you make any decisions."

oOo

A week later Dr Scarsdale listened to Doyle play. "Yes, it's starting to come right now, Raymond. You're getting back into form. How is your leg?"

"Time I went back to the flat," said Doyle. "I can cope now."

"You cannot climb six flights of stairs and you know it. You will wait till the lift is repaired and stay here in the meantime. William would be most annoyed if I informed him..."

"All right," said Doyle hastily. "Not fair, you know, holding William as a threat over my head."

"It works," said the doctor calmly.

"You still arrange concert tours, don't you?" asked Doyle, casually.

"Yes, I've been helping organise some overseas ones, cultural exchange, that sort of thing. Why, Raymond? No!"

"I went down to the British Council today," said Doyle. "Pointed out they didn't have a good pianist travelling about. Well, they have Dame Myra with her concerts, but she's getting on a bit for travelling. I told them all it would cost them would be my hotel bill and the travel fares and I'd twist arms for service charities on the way."

"And what about your leg?" asked the doctor.

"Well, that bothered them a bit, they seemed to be afraid I'd fall over on them. They said they would think about it."

"I could organise you a few concerts in London," said Doctor Scarsdale. "Why not see how you manage with those?"

"Fair enough."

Doyle's reasonable tone made the doctor glance at him suspiciously.

 

Several days later, now back at the flat, the lift of which was once more in service, Doyle was busily searching through Bodie's desk; he knew he'd seen an address book here. He needed to get in touch with someone who could jolt the Council along; it was time he got back to work! Ah, here it was, telephone numbers, too. Good. He picked up the telephone.

"Determined little bastard, aren't you," said Colonel Chapman amiably. "All right, they are going to organise a tour for you. Just bases here for a start, then we'll see. You'll have to take pot luck on lodgings. And Raymond, I'll have that address book if you please. A lot of Bodie's former colleagues are rather busy at the moment, with other matters than helping you to win the war your way!"

oOo

Doyle carefully picked his way around the flat, yet again getting himself plus crutches wedged in the furniture, when the doorbell rang. He swore. It kept on ringing. He made his way over and opened the door; and elderly man stood there looking at him in surprise. Doyle suddenly recognised Bodie's uncle.

"Major Bodie, is he here?" asked the old man.

"No," said Doyle. "Would you like to come in a minute? I'm just making some tea." 'Looks like he will fall down any moment,' he thought to himself.

The old man came in and looked round vaguely. "I had hoped William would be here," he said. "He has always been such a help with Edwin. You know my son Edwin?" Doyle nodded. "A problem, I'm afraid, weak, easily led, but not a bad boy at heart."

"Yes, of course," said Doyle gently. "Sit down and have a rest. Tea won't be a moment."

"Thank you, that's very kind. You're Raymond Doyle, Mavis' boy. I didn't know what to do with you. You didn't seem to fit in anywhere. You have been happy with William?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes," said Doyle. "Very. I never thanked you for sending me to him. It was the best thing you could have done."

"Good, good. Mary, my daughter in law, she went to your concert last week. Says you play very well. William is all right, isn't he?"

"Yes," said Doyle briskly. "He's doing fine, somewhere in the Middle East last thing I heard. Here's your tea. Sorry I haven't anything to go with it."

The bell went again. Doyle sighed and made his way over to it; he found a young woman on the doorstep.

"Mr Doyle? Is my father-in-law here?"

"Yes, come in." Doyle led her into the kitchen; the old man seemed to be nodding off after his tea.

Doyle poured her a cup. "He just arrived, seems very tired and confused," he said. "He's looking for Bodie. I heard Edwin had been killed in action last month."

She sighed. "Yes. He just won't accept it. Edwin was always his favourite. I'm Clive's wife." Doyle nodded. "Look, may I ring for a taxi to take him home?"

"Go ahead," said Doyle. "He seems to have fallen asleep. Drink that first, you look like you've been running all round London after him."

"I have. Then I remembered how he always looked to William to sort things out with Edwin. Have you heard from him lately? My husband says he's done well, been promoted and decorated."

"Just a brief note grumbling about the weather. You know Bodie, he would be a Field Marshall before he'd mention it to me."

She smiled. "He doesn't change. I remember him as a very stolid little boy, quite unimpressed with everything."

Doyle grinned. "No, he doesn't, thank goodness."

"I'll ring for that taxi now." She did so. "They say about fifteen minutes."

Doyle got up to reach the kettle, then stumbled. She grabbed him till he steadied himself.

"Are you all right, those stairs...?"

"Yes. A friend is calling for me. I'm going away for a rest, get this leg working properly," said Doyle.

They were just wondering how to get the old man down the stairs safely when Bill Chapman arrived.

"Ray, get off that leg! Mrs Hadleigh and I will soon manage. Now, sir, if you would just take my arm. That's it, let's go slowly."

When he returned Doyle was lying on the sofa. "God, Ray, you look awful! Just as well Mrs Pritchard can take you. Are you sure you're up to anything, let alone a tour?"

Doyle indicated he was with some force.

"Very well then. But get some rest in Anglesey. The old man's taking Edwin's death very hard, isn't he?"

Doyle nodded. "Have you heard anything more about Bodie's lot? That you can tell me?"

Bill shrugged. "It's a confused situation, as we always say when we don't know for certain, but things are looking up as they say...hopefully. Is that your luggage? Good, I'll take it down to the car. We better make an early start. We can eat something on way."

Doyle glanced about the flat for anything he had overlooked. 'Funny thing, I never expected to feel sorry for the old sod.' He shrugged and when he started slowly towards the door his leg twinged. He glared down at it. 'And you can stop acting up. We've got a lot of travelling to do. I want to see my fella again before he's a Field Marshal and too grand to speak to me!'

Bill came back up the stairs. "Right, now take it slowly."

oOo

Eight months later Doyle impatiently swatted a fly away, opened the piano and peered inside - carefully. At one of his first concerts in the Middle East he had found himself eyeball to eyeball with a creature with an excessive number of legs and eyes. Since then he had carefully checked his pianos for occupants as well as tone. This one seemed satisfactory; he tuned it, then ran through a piece.

'That's the lot for now,' he thought. I'll go and get something to eat, then a bath and a sleep before the concert'. He had been told of a VIP reception after the concert but was hoping to slip quietly away. He got up, stretched and looked over his programme. 'Not sure about that last piece. I'll think about it again later.'

"Mr Doyle," an official hurried up. "I'm afraid there's been a hitch in your travel arrangements. You will have to stay on here two days more. I'm sorry about that, we have altered your next concert date."

"Fine with me," said Doyle. "A break would be useful. I'd like to work on some new pieces. Will the hotel be able to keep my room on?"

"Yes, no problem about that. We will give you a copy of the new dates."

"Thanks." Doyle set off for his hotel and a cool bath. The hall was almost full when he returned; he went on stage to check the piano again and look.over his music. His helper was there.

"Be another fifteen minutes, Mr Doyle. Some VIP's haven't arrived yet."

Doyle glanced through the curtain. "Lot of top brass here tonight, Fred," he remarked. "That looks like an official party arriving now."

It was almost at the end of the programme; Doyle had changed the piece he had been unsure about and had just asked for requests.

Then he heard a familiar voice: "Debussy, 'The girl with the flaxen hair'."

He looked down, Bodie was grinning up at him and he felt his knees turn to water.

After the curtain fell Doyle hurried back into the hall, Bodie was not to be seen. Must have been with a party, probably gone to the reception, he thought, knowing Bodie would get in touch eventually. The reception was crowded and Doyle with his lack of small talk was finding it a strain; he did not want to talk music and the predominantly military audience were all discussing the recent battles. He made his way to the buffet; a familiar figure was filling his plate with serious dedication.

"Bodie, I might have known."

"My first meal in twenty-four hours," said Bodie. "Why do they make canapes so small? Hallo, Ray." They beamed at each other.

"I didn't know you would be here," said Doyle.

"Neither did I," said Bodie. "It went a lot better than we expected."

A staff officer hurried up. "Lieutenant-Colonel, the General is leaving now and would like a word with you."

"Very well," said Bodie. "Ray, I have twenty-four hours leave, I'll see you later."

"Good," said Doyle.

They met again just as the guests were leaving, Bodie now accompanied by a Brigadier.

"Delightful performance, Mr Doyle. Quite takes your mind off the war, eh Bodie?"

"Indeed, sir" said Bodie.

Doyle controlled a grin. "I am pleased you enjoyed it, sir."

"Your first time in the Middle East, Mr Doyle?"

"Yes, sir, but my family had connections here, some time ago."

Bodie saw the opening. "Mr Doyle is a distant connection of mine. He is General Hadleigh's nephew," he said, calmly reversing their relationship.

"Indeed," said the Brigadier. "You will have family news to discuss then. See you at the meeting tomorrow, Bodie."

"Yes, sir. Good evening." As he left, Bodie sighed with relief. "Now let's get out of here," he said.

"Lieutenant-Colonel," said Doyle primly, "I am not in the habit of going out with soldiers to whom I am barely related."

"Raymond," said Bodie, ''I've just had some trouble with Erwin Rommel, you are not going to be difficult too?"

"That depends," said Doyle, "on how stimulating your news of the family turns out to be. Now, what can we do in twenty-four hours?"

"Tell me, your hotel room, does it come with a bath attached?" Bodie enquired with great interest.

Doyle looked at him. "William, I suspect that bright look in your eye is caused less by the sight of my body than the idea of unlimited soap and water, and yes, my room does come with a very ample bath and unlimited hot water."

"Good," said Bodie. "I'll admire your body after I've got all the sand from my more inaccessible places."

When they reached Doyle's hotel Bodie stood back and whistled. "You're staying here! I knew I should have kept up my violin lessons."

"I have a sort of bungalow out the back, they keep it for visiting musicians so we won't annoy the other guests when we practise. A rich music lover picks up the tab for the British Council." Doyle led the way to his room. "Here we are, the bathroom's through there."

Bodie disappeared and Doyle heard the sound of taps being run with abandon and sounds of noisy approval, shortly followed by happy splashing and more sounds of approval.

"Ray, you haven't got a drink for me out, there, have you? A brandy and soda would do."

Doyle raised an eyebrow and called room service.

"Anything else, sir? Wouldn't like me to scrub your back too?"

"Good idea," said Bodie. "You can do that while I have my drink."

The drink arrived and Doyle picked his way carefully through the heap of discarded pants, tunic, boots and underwear to pass the drink over.

"Thanks. I've been dreaming about a good bath for days. Scrub away, love."

"You've lost weight," said Doyle. "Been and hurt yourself too."

"Fell off my bike, didn't I," said Bodie. "Harder down there, it itches like crazy."

"If you'll just put that drink down a minute," said Doyle, "I'll rinse your hair - what there is of it. Trying to emulate the Africa Corps were you? There, that's better." He bent down and was immediately grasped in a warm, if wet, embrace.

"Bodie!" he said, when he could speak again. "I did enjoy that but my shirt is soaking wet and the bath rim has cut a groove across me. Please contain yourself a while."

"I'll try," said Bodie sadly, "but it's very hard with you aquiver with passion beside me."

"Yeah," said Doyle. "One of us has to stay sober enough to order breakfast with champagne. And you're taking me to see the Pyramids tomorrow."

Bodie, now briskly drying himself, looked indignant. "I wasn't planning to get out of bed tomorrow." He wrapped a towel round himself and settled on the bed with a sigh of relief. "God, that's good."

Doyle looked at his a moment, then went into the bathroom. When he returned, washed and shaved, he settled beside Bodie.

"Never expected to find you here," he said. "Hoped I might, heard you'd been promoted and got another ribbon on your tunic." He snuggled closer.

Bodie slipped an arm around him and they exchanged a long leisurely kiss.

"You know," said Doyle. "I could be persuaded to forget all about the Pyramids."

"I'll do my best," said Bodie, slipping off his towel.

 

Bodie awoke and stretched happily. It wasn't dawn yet. Now where had Doyle got to?

There was a thud from the bathroom and a gasp. He was just getting out of bed when Doyle limped back into the room. "It's all right," he said sharply. "Just banged the damn thing."

Bodie forced himself not to comment as Doyle slipped gingerly back into bed beside him.

"Would you be more comfortable if I went onto the sofa?" asked Bodie.

"No! You stay right there, I've been waiting for you long enough." There was a silence. "Sorry, just can't stand people fussing about me," Doyle muttered.

"I'm not people," said Bodie. "You have something to take for the pain?"

"Yes, but it makes me sleepy," Doyle complained.

"Take it! And I want to see you swallow the pill," Bodie commanded.

"You don't trust me!" Doyle said reproachfully.

"Too right," said Bodie. "Get on with it!"

Doyle glumly took his pill. 

 

Doyle awoke to the delightful smell of coffee and hot croissants and sat up. Good, his leg had settled down again. "When did this arrive?" he asked. "Is the champagne on the way, too?"

"Just now," said Bodie. "The champagne is chilling in the bathroom in an ice bucket and I've put the 'Do not disturb' notice on the door." He passed a brimming glass over. "Now, what shall we drink to?"

"Us," said Doyle. "I'm not risking drinking to anything else. Glad you put that notice on the door, I want to spend the day entertaining the army."

"All of it?" asked Bodie, with interest.

"No, just this elderly officer I know," said Doyle. 

The elderly officer tried to look offended over a mouthful of croissant and failed. 

Doyle began to butter himself another. "Reminds me," he said. "While I was touring the bases in England, I met this officer who said he knew you - a Captain Manners. He said to give you his regards to the old devil if I met up with you. He's years older than you and I don't believe that he translates erotic Persian poetry, looks just like the vicar at home."

"It's true," said Bodie. "I'll tell you some if you like." He leaned over and whispered into Doyle's ear.

Doyle went rather pink. "Yeah, see what you mean. How did you come to learn that bit?" he asked suspiciously.

"Thought it might come in useful sometime," said Bodie vaguely.

"You know, William," said Doyle, "you are turning out quite a surprise."

"That's good. Pass me another croissant, and you can tell me how you got here."

"It's not very interesting," said Doyle. "You tell me how you defeated Rommel singlehanded - it took you long enough. Is that because Harry isn't with you? Where is he by the way?"

"Harry," said Bodie through a mouthful of bread, "is engaged in espionage work in Baghdad. He is trying to contact Colonel Lawrence."

"Through a medium, I suppose?" said Doyle.

"Of course not!" said Bodie. "He was smuggled out of England and has been safeguarding our interests in the Middle East for years. Everyone knows that, it was in 'Titbits'!"

"I don't know why I asked," said Doyle, looking at the ceiling. "Do you always tell these stories, and stop giving me that blue-eyed innocent stare. You and Harry are a pair of - "

"Major Pritchard and I are - ?"

"Harry's been promoted," yelled Doyle with delight.

"Yes. How do you think he ended up in Baghdad? It's the first wrong move he's made in years and he's furious about it. As I said, Major Pritchard and I are creative thinkers, that's why we take so long to get promoted. Very hide-bound in some ways, the army." Bodie gazed dreamily at Doyle.

"You must terrify your superiors," said Doyle

"Damn! Blast! Hell!" said Bodie. "The meeting!" He shot off the bed and into the bathroom. "Doyle! Get a clean shirt out of my bag and give it a shake. I'll tell them I was caught in a traffic jam."

"William, you're not leaving?" asked Doyle with indignation. "Yes, you are."

"C'est la Guerre," said Bodie, dressing at maximum speed. He straightened his cap. "There, how do I look?"

"Like a rat," said Doyle.

"Ahhh," said Bodie. "See you later, love." He bent down and gave Doyle a smacking kiss. "Get some practice in - on the piano." He was gone. 

Doyle poured himself a glass of champagne and began to swear lustily in three languages.

 

It was late when Bodie finally returned and he let himself in.

Doyle was lying on the bed, fast asleep, still fully dressed. From the amount of music lying about he had been getting some practice in.

Bodie ran himself a bath; he was just enjoying it when Doyle appeared in the doorway, yawning.

"Thought it must be you, I've ordered dinner," he said. "What happened, I was afraid they'd sent you off to war again?"

"Nothing but talk for hours and hours," said Bodie wearily. "Then, when they finally came to a decision, I was buttonholed by this brigadier wanting to discuss his assessment of the situation. Couldn't tell him I had this handsome green-eyed lover waiting for me. Unfair, that's what it is. Still, you got some work done."

"Cheer up," said Doyle, kissing him briskly. "I'm nice and rested for you now."

"Wish I was," said Bodie. "Sounds like dinner, go and welcome it."

"It looks good," Doyle noted. "I've saved us some champagne, it's gone a bit flat."

"I don't think we'll notice," said Bodie. "They gave me another eight hours to make up for today. Had to, transport is fouled up."

 

"You know something," said Doyle, as he lay in his lover's arms watching the sky lighten. "I was beginning to think we'd never make it. Kept expecting a dispatch rider to burst in yelling 'Rommel's coming' and haul you out of my arms."

"I wouldn't have shifted for Montgomery himself," said Bodie gallantly.

"Huh!" said Doyle. "How long do you have now?"

"Six hours, then it's back to the front," said Bodie, looking at his watch.

"I'm getting bloody sick of saying goodbye to you," said Doyle.

"I know, love. Look, let's have breakfast then go for a walk round the bazaar. You haven't been there yet?" Bodie asked.

"No, I've been too busy. Okay, I'll order breakfast."

They were just ready to go out when Doyle realised Bodie was staring at him in horror.

"I didn't really notice when we met, it being dark, but couldn't they find you a uniform to fit?" 

Doyle looked down at his battledress. "They didn't have a small size in. I dunno why, they always fixed me up in the R.A.F. I have to wear it in case they think I'm a spy or something." He pulled ineffectually at the khaki garment hanging gracelessly about him. "What's the matter? Ashamed to be seen with me, with you looking like a bloody recruiting poster?"

"Let's see if I can adjust it a bit," said Bodie. After a struggle some sort of order emerged.

"Well," said Bodie. "It's too long, too wide and too big, but otherwise a perfect fit. Come on, you look like you're auditioning for Fred Karno's army!"

Doyle giggled and followed him.

The bazaar was a great success with Doyle, who strolled round wide-eyed and had to be forcibly prevented from investing in very dubious artefacts. Bodie presented him with a postcard of the Pyramids. "You can make do with that, it will be 110 degrees out there now. I'd better be getting back to collect my kit."

Doyle watched him pack. "How long are you going to be here, Bodie. In the desert I mean?"

"It can't be much longer, then Italy, Greece - who knows? What's your next stop?"

Doyle ran through a long list. "Then a rest, before I start following the drum again."

Bodie strapped up his bag and walked over. "Here," he slipped a silver chain into Doyle's hand, "a new collar for you."

Doyle smiled at him. "You'd better put it on then."

Bodie fastened it round his neck. "I have to go," he said. They embraced, then he picked up his bag. "I'll be in touch, Ray."

The phone rang. "Mr Doyle?"

"Yes," said Ray. Bodie smiled at him then left. "Yes," said Ray again. "I didn't quite catch that. Yes, that would be fine. I'll leave in the morning. What? No, I'm all right, just a bit of a cold."

oOo

Somewhere in Italy...

"It's like Shakespeare says," said Harry gloomily. "I feel my life has fallen into the sere and yellow leaf."

Bodie, who had been minutely scrutinising his glass of beer, looked at him. "Something odd in this, Harry. Can't make out what it is."

"Isn't hops," said Harry. "Have another, you don't notice it so much after a few. 'Come to sunny Italy', must have been 40 below last night! You know, Bodie, when this is over I'm putting up a notice at home. The last Pritchard has gone to war, you'll have to manage without us!"

"I'll remind you of that at your Tom's passing out parade," said Bodie. "What's the matter with you? Upset at being torn away from mysterious, exotic Baghdad?"

"Only mystery there was the bloody plumbing," said Harry moodily. "I'm getting worn out stopping my lads and the 22nd Quebec from killing each other. Keep telling 'em we're both on the same side. Not their fault they speak French. Be bloody glad when Cameron comes out of hospital and takes them over again. Wish I had your lot, just sitting there quietly, sharpening, their knives and fricasseeing the odd stolen chicken."

"They're good lads," said Bodie. "You're wrong about the beer, it doesn't get any better."

"Heard from Ray lately?" asked Harry.

"A letter last week. It had taken over two months to reach me. Said he'd just finished a tour and was going to take a rest. Might be something for me at headquarters, I'll have to go over in the morning."

"Oh ho," said Harry. "That's interesting, there have been rumours you know."

"I don't want to hear them," said Bodie, "let it be an unpleasant surprise."

oOo

To: Lieutenant Colonel W. Bodie, Somewhere in Italy  
From: Dr R. Scarsdale  
'Dear William,  
Just to tell you Raymond is out of hospital now and recuperating at Mrs Pritchard's. He could not have stayed at the flat with those stairs. I blame myself for not realising how tired he was becoming but, as usual, I believed his protestations that he was 'fine, don't fuss'. However, the doctors' informed me his collapse was a blessing as they were able to carry out surgery on his leg which he had been putting off because he was too busy! They have apparently inserted some pins which will help a great deal.

Raymond was very annoyed at being kept in hospital so I sent relays of my students in with scores and other items to keep him occupied. Apparently they both enjoyed the visits. I have taken the precaution of sending Mrs Pritchard a full list of what he is not to do, and what medication he should be taking. As you know he cannot be relied on in such matters. I will keep you informed of his progress.'

 

To: Lieutenant Colonel W. Bodie, Somewhere in Italy  
From: R. Doyle, Plas, Anglesey  
'Dear Sir,  
Might have known the Italians wouldn't have a chance once you and what dear Clive calls your 'turbaned thugs' arrived. Mind you, having Harry with you must have helped too.

Young Tom and I have been watching all the newsreels hoping to see you but no luck. We go to the local flea pit twice a week. I had no idea they made so many cowboy films. We shout 'he's behind you' and hiss all the villains with the rest of the mob.

Hope they pass me as fit to go back on tour soon, it was damned annoying. Leg just went from under me. Then an army doctor from the audience shipped me straight off to hospital. Liberty! Didn't have time to protest. Anyway, they put some spare parts in and it seems much better now. I couldn't stay at the flat so I'm here being fattened up. Couldn't be looked after better anywhere.

Doing a lot of reading. Found some sketches and writing of yours. You never told me about them, speak to you about them when I see you.  
Regards,  
Ray'

 

Headquarters Rome 

"So that's settled then, Bodie. Congratulations, it's long overdue."

"Thank you, sir. Who will take over in my place?"

"Major Pritchard, will I think, welcome a change. Cameron will be out of hospital any day now. He's been passed as fit to resume command. I think it will come as a mutual relief!"

"Definitely, sir. Major Pritchard knows the men. No problem there."

"That's it then, you should be able to pick up a plane tomorrow. It'll be rough travelling I'm afraid but it will save time.

oOo

"Ray," piped a small voice. "There's a man on the phone for you."

"Who does it sound like?" Doyle asked warily.

"It sounds like Uncle William."

Doyle hurried over to the phone. "Bodie! Where the hell are you? I'll get the car. Megan. It's Bodie, he's at Bangor Station!"

 

Bodie, hanging onto the side of the car, looked at Doyle with interest. "Why didn't you go in the tanks, you would have been a natural driving like this? I knew there was a good reason I never let you drive my car. You did pass a test?"

"Of course I did," said Doyle affronted. "Thought it would come in useful. Hang on, there's another sticky bit ahead. There you are, home safe and sound."

"I felt safer in the desert," said Bodie, climbing out with alacrity.

Young Pritchards stampeded from all sides to meet him.

"Mam! Uncle William's got red tabs!"

"Stop yelling, the lot of you," commanded Megan. She hugged Bodie heartily. "And my goodness he has. About time, too. How's my Harry?"

"There's a letter in that bag and the contents are for you and the children. He's fine, especially now he's taking over my lads."

"Let him get in," said Megan. "Ray you'd better take him into the parlour and I'll see about some tea. You lot get from under my feet. Go on, you can unpack the bag. Carefully, Tom!"

Bodie sighed with relief as he sank into a chair. "Thought I'd never get here. I don't think much of planes, Ray. It bounced all the way from Italy. Then ten hours in London. Had a passenger on the train shake me awake when we reached Chester, where I had to change, then another to wake me at Bangor."

"You can have the bed in my room," said Doyle, "I can manage on the camp thing. How long have you got?"

"A week, then I'm on a training course." Bodie yawned.

"You look awful," said Doyle, "and you need a shave."

"Tomorrow," said Bodie. "Where's that bed?"

Megan came in with some tea. "Can see all you want is to get your head down," she said. "Take this with you, the children won't be disturbing you."

"Come on," said Doyle, "this way. Get you sorted out."

Bodie was asleep five minutes after his head touched the pillow.

Doyle moved round collecting his uniform together. 'Promoted again. Didn't tell me, did you - as usual. We'll have to have a talk when you're not asleep on your feet.'

 

Bodie finished a hearty breakfast and looked round with approval. "The place hasn't changed a bit," he said.

Megan, shelling peas, looked up. "Sure you don't want any more toast?"

"No, I couldn't manage it. Where's Ray?"

"Out loading the car. Cousin Winifred is letting you have her holiday cottage at Aberffraw. Ray tells me you have just a week and you'll get more rest and peace there than here with the children underfoot all the time. Just you see you have a good meal with us before you go back. Should I ask where?"

"No," said Bodie. "Thank you for looking after Ray and sorting out the cottage for us, I appreciate it."

"Why not," said Megan. "He's family too. Just see he doesn't overdo things. I'll give you his doctor's instructions. He's off his medication now but he does have pills if he has any bad pain. I'll give them to you, he never bothers about looking after himself. That's him now," she complained, "blowing that damned horn, Tell him to wait, the loaves are still cooling!"

Bodie strolled out. Doyle was fussing over a car.

"This isn't Megan's," said Bodie.

"Course it isn't," said Doyle. "It's mine, I got it with my gratuity."

"We've got a car," said Bodie, "if it's still in the garage at Hellens."

Doyle gave him a 'you must be joking' look. "I prefer one that doesn't break down after the first ten miles. That wreck is ready for a museum. Get in. Here's Megan with the bread now. Besides, I need it with my bad leg, don't I," he said plaintively.

"Knew you'd try that one," said Bodie. "Very well, but remember, the War Office would like me back in one piece."

"Huh!" said Doyle. "Getting very commanding since you got promoted, aren't you! No, come to that you always were. Here we go, hold your cap on!"

They did, however, arrive at the cottage without incident, apart from a near miss with a tractor.

Bodie looked at the cottage with interest. "Good Lord, it's even got roses round the door," he remarked.

"That's so the visitors won't notice that the bog is at the end of the garden," said Doyle. "It's okay really, quite dry and warm. We come over and check it once a week. I stayed here one week when I needed some peace and quiet. The only thing lacking is a piano."

Bodie was left to poke about the small garden while Doyle started the fire and set the spirit stove alight to boil the kettle for tea. Bodie wandered back in and looked round.

"We have this room, that little kitchen and a big loft bedroom," said Doyle. "Good sandy beach that way, fine for beachcombing. We can get milk and vegetables from the farm up the lane, and the odd rabbit. What do you think?"

"Sounds good," said Bodie. "I could do with a good plate of rabbit stew."

"Well, tonight you'll have to settle for spam fritters if I've packed the opener, if not you can go and catch your own rabbit," said Doyle.

 

"I'm going to enjoy this," said Bodie, after supper. "Peace and quiet, the sea just over the way. And I have you to myself at last."

"Let's hope it's enough to stop you getting bored," said Doyle. "I'm always being told I have no conversation."

"Good!" said Bodie. "Harry never stops talking, and I've brought some books.''

 

The next day Doyle watched as Bodie, his pants well rolled up, ferretted about in a rock pool. "What are you after now?" he asked.

"Crab," said Bodie. "Go well with some beer, a crab would."

"If you get one, you cook it yourself," said Doyle. "I'm not dumping the poor bugger in a pan of boiling water."

Bodie looked at him and dried his hands. "Bother you, does it?"

Doyle shrugged. "Well, yes, it does."

"Okay, they can go on scavaging in peace."

"Look, Bodie, you don't have to pander to my whims."

"Not whims with you," said Bodie, "they're convictions. Think I'll go in for a swim." He began to haul his jersey off.

"Bodie, you haven't got a costume," said Doyle.

"So? We're five miles from the nearest house, and all we have seen are two sheep and a sea gull. I'm going in," said Bodie. "Why don't you come with me?"

"Not on your life," said Doyle, with a shudder. "It's cold, wet, and my leg might get rusty."

Bodie walked down the beach and plunged in; Doyle gritted his teeth to avoid yelling 'be careful!'

"I suppose you didn't bring a towel," he said, as a soaked Bodie returned. "And stop dripping on me."

"Sorry," said Bodie vaguely, drying himself on his vest. "According to all the novels," he added, "we should now engage in a passionate love scene."

Doyle looked totally uninterested in the idea. "You are cold, wet, sandy, and at the moment totally unappealing to me," he remarked.

"Just a thought," said Bodie. "Besides, I wanted to see if I could make you blush."

Doyle was very quiet on the long walk back to the cottage. Bodie looked at him and decided to let him alone, he would hear about whatever was bothering Doyle soon enough.

 

"That was a really good plate of stew," said Doyle. "You're coming on as a cook. Bodie, we have got to talk!"

"What about?" asked Bodie. "I know you're brooding about something."

"I'm not brooding!" yelled Doyle. "It's this," he slapped Bodie's tunic on the table. "Those red tabs for a start! You know what would happen if they found out someone of your rank was having a homosexual affair.''

Bodie sat back. "Of course I do. I would be asked to resign my commission at the least. But you are not a junior officer, not even a soldier. You're hardly a security risk, or a chance pick-up, you're someone I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Doyle was silent a while. "I could ruin your career," he said. "I would never forgive myself if I did that."

"That's my problem, Ray. Look, when we met you were just someone who needed help. I remembered what it was like when my parents died. I didn't want to go and live with my uncle and cousins. My father and Harry's father had served together in the Great War - father made him my guardian in case anything happened to him and my mother. Well, Major Pritchard took me home to Plas and his family. You haven't met them but Harry has brothers and sisters all over the world. They accepted me at once and I was very happy with them, so I couldn't leave you in that place. Then I got to know you, and wanted you to get on. When I was in India I looked forward to your letters, hearing about your ups and downs, laughing at things together. I began to love you, but not in love, you understand?" 

Doyle nodded. 

Bodie paused a moment, then went on, "When I met Molly in India we got on very well. I needed to have someone I suppose. Harry is my closest friend, almost like a brother, but he had his family. Anyway, I believed that I was in love with Molly. Then I began to see we were not well suited. Fortunately she did too. If only she and Dick..." He stopped and looked down. Doyle moved over to sit by him. "Then," Bodie went on, "you came back from France, remember?"

"Yes," said Doyle. "Alice suggested I did. I was waiting for an excuse."

"Oh," said Bodie. "So I took a long look at you and realised it had been you for a long time. Sound like a penny book, don't I? I couldn't do a thing about it, shouldn't have done anyway, with you so much younger, but that night at the flat I couldn't say no. We might never have seen each other again." There was a silence. Bodie looked at Ray hard. "What's the matter, are you all right?"

"What the hell do you think is the matter," said Ray, blowing his nose. "Never had a love letter before - even a verbal one. I was going to ask you if you wanted to finish it."

"Do you want to?" asked Bodie. "No strings, Ray?"

"Of course I don't!" said Doyle. "Been mad about you for years. At first because you pulled me out of that hole. I was just planning another escape, I was going to run away to sea. God knows what would have happened to me. I kept telling myself you were just another stiff-necked soldier. You and Alice believed in me, the others just expected me to turn out a mess. Then you started writing to me and I suppose I started to grow up. 

"By the way, I know you paid for my musical education. It took me some time to realise that, and I couldn't let you down anyway. I've been daft about you for years, sitting around mooning over you - quite disgusting it was. So, now you know. And stop going on about being older than me, you're not bloody Methuselah you know!"

"So, it's for better, for worse," began Bodie.

"In sickness and in health," said Doyle. "Yeah, the lot."

They smiled at each other.

"Now that's settled," said Bodie, "can we go to bed? I think I'm getting a cold."

"You would!" said Doyle. "Go on, I'll heat up some whisky and hot water."

"Not too much hot water," said Bodie.

They had been in bed some hours when Bodie whispered: "Ray, you asleep?"

"Yes. What's the matter, feel ill?"

"No. Ray, What's it like to jump by parachute?"

"Eh?" said Doyle. "What's brought this on? You're not - ?"

"Yes," said Bodie. "I'm on a course starting next week. You forget I said that, but I'd like to know."

Doyle sat up and lit the candle. "You are going to jump by parachute?"

"Said so, didn't I?" Bodie said, aggrieved.

"But you're too - " Doyle stopped.

"If you were going to say I'm too old," snapped Bodie, "I shall adjourn to the sofa - well, one of us will. With my cold, I'd better stay here."

Doyle hurriedly made soothing noises and patted him. "Look it's easy," he said. "Nothing to worry about. I've jumped hundreds of times. Just remember to pull the cord and land properly and you'll be fine. Don't suffer from vertigo, do you?"

"I don't know," said Bodie unhappily. "The heights in India never bothered me. It's different looking out of a plane. I tried it coming over - I was green most of the way. Are you sure you've jumped hundreds of times?"

Doyle reconsidered. "Well, maybe not that many, the only really hairy one was in France. It was very wooded country and I got stuck in a tree. Oh, I suppose that's where - "

"Probably," said Bodie. "Tell me no more. Good night, Ray."

Within ten minutes he was asleep, leaving Doyle with a whole set of new things to worry about.

oOo

"Makes you wonder where it all comes from," said Doyle, staring out at the pouring rain.

"It always rains in Wales," said Bodie. "It should be called Mackintosh country, I used to spend all my holidays here in wellingtons. Any tea left?"

"I nearly got drowned going to the bog," Doyle went on. "Well named it is, too, there must be a foot of water down there. Stop laughing, you sod. Yes, though the tea's a bit stewed. Here you are. What's that you're reading, it looks a bit tattered?"

"I found it in the woodshed. It's called 'Heartease', well half of it is, the rest is missing. So far seven members of the family have gone into declines and died. It isn't very amusing, but I've read everything else."

"I wondered why you seemed so fascinated by the small print on the sauce bottle," said Doyle. "Listen, while I was at the flat I saw some notebooks of yours from India, with drawings and bits of writing on the places and things you've seen. Funny ones, too. Ever think of working them into a book?"

"No," said Bodie. "That sort of thing went out with Kipling and Gunga Din. God, remember that awful old film?"

"I loved it," Doyle protested. "It gave me this totally inaccurate picture of your life out there. I was disgusted when all you seemed to do was ride about with a lousy mule train."

"Oh, I don't know," said Bodie. "There was the time I went to Tibet and saw... No, you wouldn't be interested in that."

"Bodie, if this is one of your stories... Go on then, but I won't believe a word of it."

A reproachful blue eye gazed at him. "Well, get me a drink then and I'll tell you. T'was a dark and stormy night, the winds blew and the rain fell as I climbed up the last of the 240 steps to the monastery..."

"That," said Doyle, some 30 minutes later, "is the most unmitigated lie I have ever heard."

"It's not! " said Bodie. "You can see the skin in the regimental museum. Hey, the rain's stopped. We can walk along the beach before sunset."

They walked in silence, the air smelt fresh after the rain, the hills on the mainland showing clearly. While a light wind blew in from the sea the sun was just beginning to set.

"It's been a good leave," said Bodie. "We'll have to come here again. I'll do some fishing next time."

"Yes," said Ray. "I've enjoyed it too." 

They looked at each other a moment.

"I have a nasty feeling," said Bodie, "that I look as soppy as you do."

"Yes," said Doyle. "We make a fine pair. You were lucky you know."

"Pardon?" asked Bodie, bemused.

"Well, I might have been a right mess, coming from that reformatory," said Doyle.

"'You weren't?" asked Bodie in surprise.

"Bodie! Well, I could have been unmusical for a start!"

"I would have made something of you," said Bodie with confidence. "I knew no-one who would hit Clive with a flat iron could be wholly bad. "

"Ah," said Doyle. "For that I'll make supper."

It was dark when they arrived back at the cottage. While Bodie emptied the sand from his boots Doyle set about their meal.

"Early night?" he suggested.

"Definitely," said Bodie.

"Good, eat your supper then. Fresh air makes you sleepy," said Doyle, yawning.

It was still very early when Doyle slid out of bed and began to collect their stuff together. Bodie still snored contentedly. 

It had been a good time together. 'Just let him get back' thought Doyle. 'We've spent so long apart over the years. He can't get killed like the others: Molly, Dick, and now Jack...most of the men I flew with'. He gave himself a shake. 'Stop it, Bodie wouldn't want... I'd better put some bacon on.'

The scent of bacon began to permeate. Bodie's nostrils twitched and he opened an eye.

"Knew that would waken you," said Doyle. "You have a nose like a bloodhound for food!"

"True," said Bodie sitting up. "I was lost on Salisbury Plain once. They started boiling up in the cookhouse and I set off home straight as a die. Ah, breakfast in bed. That's nice. Still, I deserve it."

"Ha!" said Doyle. "Make the most of it, it's not going to become a regular feature of our future life I assure you!"

oOo

Doyle twirled the radio dial, trying to pick up another station; the resulting atmospherics almost startled Dr Scarsdale from his seat.

"Raymond! There will be another news broadcast at nine o'clock, please be patient! Surely you have some work you can do?"

Doyle glared at him. The doctor, unimpressed, gazed right back.

"I can't concentrate," Doyle muttered. "Sorry. I supposed you worry about Desmond, too."

"Desmond would not thank me for it, he is well able to look after himself. Have you heard from William recently?"

"A short phone call, he just said he'd passed his course. He seemed pleased as punch with himself. Might have known he'd sail through it. I still think he's too old for - "

"I wish," said Dr Scarsdale, "you would remember that William is 34 not 94! He is not crippled with arthritis yet. I am sure he finds your references to his decrepit condition annoying. I know he hardly acts like a bright young thing but he has been in the army since he was 16 and that hardly makes for a frivolous disposition!

"Anyway, stop trying to 'kid me', which I believe is the current expression, that you do not think the world of him."

Doyle grinned at him. "Don't know why I try. Hey, the news!" They turned the wireless up and stood listening to the accounts of the landings and their subsequent progress. When the broadcast ended Dr Scarsdale fetched a bottle from his cabinet.

"I have been saving this for a special occasion. Will you join me, Raymond?"

Doyle nodded. "I would be happy to."

The doctor filled their glasses. "Then, to Victory, Peace and... " He looked at Doyle.

"Absent friends," said Doyle.

They both drank.

"I'd like to start working again," said Doyle. "I know I can't tour yet, but - "

"Well, I have been asked if you can appear at a charity concert here in London."

"Fix it," said Doyle. "It's about time the leg started working properly."

After he had left to put some practice in the doctor looked at the photographs on his mantelpiece. He touched a frame gently.

"Yes, absent friends," he whispered.

oOo

Doyle, cheerfully whistling off-key, gathered up the morning mail. Dr Scarsdale raised his eyes to heaven. "How long, oh Lord," he murmured. Raymond Doyle, a semi-permanent house-guest due to the continual malfunction of the lift at his flat, could best be described as a pain in the neck.

"Raymond," he remarked as he entered the breakfast room. "Did I mention to you that I was thinking of returning to live at the Academy - when the military see fit to return it, that is?"

"No," said Doyle, looking up. "Ah, here's a letter from Bodie."

"It occurred to me," the doctor went on, "that William might be interested in buying this flat. It isn't as central as his, but it is a ground floor flat and has a pleasant small garden at the back. It would suit you much better."

Doyle looked round. "Yes, we could get the piano in easily here, we are in each other's pockets all the time in that cubby hole! I'll mention it to Bodie. Hey, look at this!" He tossed a photograph over. "It looks as if Harry has liberated a harem!"

"Indeed," said the doctor. "I hope Mrs Pritchard finds it amusing, you can hardly see the tank for the bottles of wine and exuberant young women draped all over it. Is Major Pritchard the one drinking from a bottle and embracing a large lady simultaneously?"

"Yes, that's Harry!" agreed Doyle. "Bodie complains it never happens to him. All he's liberated is a convent full of nuns and a railway terminus. He also comments that Harry has finally found a way to keep off his feet. He must be all right, when he grumbles on like this things are going well. It's when he writes all cheerful and stiff upper lip that I start worrying. Good, they've sent my papers, I can leave the end of the week. I'd better decide on a programme. If anyone requests 'Humouresque' this time I'll crack on that I don't know it."

Dr Scarsdale, somewhat startled that the good Lord had taken the trouble to answer his plea with everything else he must have on his mind at the moment, beamed at Raymond.

"I'll look over it for you," he offered. "See if we cannot come up with a more adventurous one than is usually the case at these times."

oOo

Doyle checked his case again.

"Yes, I've got all the music I'm likely to need. What's this lot?"

"Socks and a change of shirt and under-wear," said Dr Scarsdale. "If you are going to play in Paris, I imagine they would like to see you at your best, Raymond."

"I suppose so. I'll enjoy playing there. News any different?"

"No, still heavy fighting in parts of the country. Do take care."

oOo

Bodie fought his way up through the blackness: blurred sounds; pain; a smell of something, antiseptic, ether? A Field Hospital. The sounds began to make sense... voices.

"It's all right, sir. Just keep still, we'll have you comfortable in a moment."

A different voice. "Yes, I see. We'd better not waste time, get him ready. I'll operate."

There was a prick and the darkness came back.

When he next opened his eyes, it was to the bustle of a hospital ward. A chit of a girl was asking him if he felt sick. He was about to deny it roundly when he realised he did.

"Just the anaesthetic on your stomach," she remarked with relentless cheerfulness, "best to get it all up."

Afterward he fixed her with a stern, if blood-shot, eye. "I demand to know where I am and why?" he said.

"Oh, you've come round at last, have you." A brisk young man appeared. "Well let's have a look at you. Good. That looks fine."

Bodie, taking a quick look thought 'it looks bloody awful', but felt too weak to argue the point. 

"Well, the war's over for you," the man went on. "You still need a lot of clearing up to be done, far better have it seen to at home, in England."

Bodie slowly took it all in. He checked his limbs - they all seemed to be there. "What happened?" he asked. "I was speaking to one of my officers then..."

"A shell," said the doctor. "We took quite a few fragments out of you. You should make a good recovery, nothing too vital was hit, just messy. Try and get some sleep. If the pain's bad, tell the nurse. Someone will be along for messages for your family presently."

"Thank you," said Bodie. 

He lay back and started to work things out. What had happened to Owen, he was standing by me? Better get a message to... He fell asleep.

When he next awoke a young woman was sitting at his bedside.

"Colonel Bodie, would you like me to contact someone for you?" she enquired.

"Yes, if you would, Mrs Megan Pritchard, Plas, Penmon. It's in Anglesey. Just tell her I'm all right and where I am."

"Oh yes, a Major Pritchard was enquiring when you could have visitors."

Bodie smiled. So Harry was still around.

 

Harry arrived next afternoon. "Fine way to get out of that bet with me! Mind you, you're going to get home quicker. You're well out of it, boy!"

"Harry, Captain Owen, my adjutant, he was standing next to me?"

"Sorry, Bodie. He was killed, three others too - by that stray shell. Higgins wasn't too badly wounded, he sends his regards."

"Damn. Owen was a good man. Does Ray know?"

"Yes, I had a job tracing him, then heard he was doing a concert at Rheims. We got through to him. He'll be over as soon as he can, he's trying to find a concert he can play here. I have to go now. I dare not leave my second too long, he's an impulsive lad, keeps wanting to press on. I keep telling him there's no need to rush, if Montgomery wants us to move he'll be sure to mention it. Keeping us in reserve they are, for something nasty."

oOo

Bodie was dozing quietly, some days later, when a nurse touched him gently. "Visitor for you, sir," she said.

Bodie opened his eyes, then blinked and rubbed them. "It's a mirage," he muttered.

"Don't be daft," said Doyle. "It's me!"

Bodie looked at him: neat; tidy; and wearing a well-fitting khaki battledress. And he looked... Bodie hoped his feelings were not written on his face.

"Ray," he smiled happily.

Doyle sat down, grinning, and took his hand. "You can thank Yvonne for the fit of the uniform. She was waiting when I came off the platform at Rheims. Took me home to meet her husband. He's a nice chap. Then she ripped the uniform off my back. She and her mother trundled away on their machines altering it. They said their bit for the war effort was making me fit to be seen."

"Yvonne?" said Bodie. "The small dark one who played the - ?"

"Violin," said Doyle. "Yes, that's the one. I'm glad she came through the war all right. I've brought some cigarettes for your mates here, and a bottle of whisky for you. Are you allowed to drink it?"

"If I'm not," said Bodie, ''there's plenty who are! Where did you get all this stuff?"

"American bases," said Doyle. "They're very generous people. I brought some cigars for Harry, too. Damn, Bodie, this place is too public! I hear they're sending you home?"

"Yes, at the end of the week."

"Bodie, you are all right, apart from - ?"

"Of course I am," snapped Bodie. "I still have the same number of arms and legs, just have a body that looks like a bloody pin-cushion. What about your leg?"

"Stuff my leg," said Doyle. "We're talking about you."

They grinned at each other. "How long is your tour?" asked Bodie.

"Another month. I would have liked to go to Vienna, but they said nothing doing. I have to leave, I'm playing at the mess here. I'll try and get in to see you again."

After he left a nurse bustled over. "And who was that handsome young man?" she asked as she straightened his bed again.

"My adopted son," said Bodie with a grin.

"A likely story," she sniffed. "And will you gentlemen remember that this is a hospital ward and put out those cigarettes at once! Colonel, that whisky will not go with your medication. I will take charge of it, you may have it back later.''

A chorus of complaints and suggestions followed her as she left the ward, and then everyone lit up again.

oOo

They were just preparing Bodie for the trip home when Harry burst in, a large cigar clamped between his teeth.

"I see Ray found you," said Bodie acidly. "Harry, tell them I'm fit now, I can walk. I need to get back to the front."

"Shut up, Bodie," said Harry. "The only way you can walk is on bloody crutches. You're going home. Megan is already pestering the War Office to get her hands on you for convalescence, so lie back and enjoy it."

oOo

"How are you feeling today, William?" enquired Dr Scarsdale.

Bodie treated him to his moodiest look. "I'm bored! I've read everything in sight, heard all the jokes - twice - and the food is lousy!"

"Never mind," said Dr Scarsdale. "They tell me you may be discharged soon, the rate you are progressing. Here is your mail. I am afraid there is yet another postcard from Major Pritchard with a view of the latest place he had liberated."

"When he comes back," said Bodie, "I am going to stuff them all down his throat! I can't believe this one, the army must be wearing bloody seven league boots! Bet I get one of the Unter den Linden next week. You heard from Ray? I had nothing from him here."

"I asked at the British Council, his tour is progressing. He's busy I suppose."

Bodie snorted. "You'd think the little rat would write to me," he grumbled.

"Hum," said Dr Scarsdale. "I heard your cousin Clive has kindly been in to see you. I trust you were polite to him?"

Bodie grinned suddenly. "Not really," he remarked. "Sorry, I hate being cooped up in here. Everything feels better, it just itches like crazy. Damn, there's the bell, you'll have to go."

 

When the doctor arrived home, Doyle plus baggage was waiting on his doorstep. 

"Oh good, Raymond. I hoped you would be here. The doctor says you may collect William as soon as convenient, and bring him back here. He has to check back at the hospital after a few days. Then, if they give him the all clear, you can take him down to Plas with you."

"Good," said Doyle. "How is he bearing up?"

"Badly," said the doctor. "He is very bored and looking for a fight. He is going to be very glad to see you! Now, his doctor says he must take things easy for a while but he is to have regular exercise. Any alcohol taken is to be in small amounts."

"I'll look after him," said Doyle. "I'm glad he's out of it. Had a note from Harry. The fighting is still very fierce but it won't be long now, he says. He's been sending Bodie cards to upset him. Keep him interested, he says."

"He has indeed!" said Dr Scarsdale. "William is getting very suspicious about them. Now, tell me about your tour."

oOo

Bodie stretched carefully and looked round the lounge with approval. "You're right," he remarked. "This place would suit Ray and myself perfectly. Plenty of room and no stairs for Ray's leg. It's quiet and well situated. I like the garden at the back, too. Much better than my eyrie. I'll see what I can get for that; we should be able to meet your price. We need a place in town for Ray's career. I don't want him driving down to Amersham after a concert when he's dog tired."

"William," said the doctor. "You remember speaking to me about how unsettled you were over a future in a peace-time army? Now that the war will be over in a few months..."

"Yes," said Bodie. "I'm still thinking about that. Even if I could get posted back to India, it wouldn't be the same. Times are changing fast. I've seen too much of war-torn Europe to want to spend time there. Then there's Ray, we would like to have time for each other now."

"Yes," said the doctor. "As you know, I have been Raymond's manager since he commenced his concert career. I would like to relinquish the post. Now I am getting old, I want some peace and tranquility back in my life. I'm planning a life in the country at the academy, helping Desmond. I did ask him if he would consider taking Ray on, he declined. Said after three years in the commandos he'd prefer something less hazardous. He hasn't the patience for Ray anyway but you, William..." He looked at Bodie.

"But I don't know anything about such things!" Bodie protested.

"I would be more than happy to instruct you, before I retire. You are an ideal choice, you're calm, practical, well-travelled, used to dealing with all types of people and you possess good organisational skills. Raymond's occasional bouts of artistic temperament wouldn't bother you. You have a good working knowledge of music. You will be able to travel and work together. Consider it and let me know what you think."

Bodie began to, then smiled to himself. It did have possibilities. He'd have to talk it over with Ray. In ten months he would have done twenty years in the army. He could finish his term while he was making up his mind.

The phone went, Dr Scarsdale picked it up and listened a while. "Well, that would be satisfactory, but there is the question of expenses. No, Mr Doyle will require overnight accommodation! There is a long train journey involved. I would not wish him to spend most of the night on a draughty railway station. Perhaps you should speak to my colleague, he will shortly be taking over as Mr Doyle's manager, I will abide by his decision."

He passed the phone to Bodie, who received it with a horrified expression. 

"What seems to be the problem?" Bodie asked. "Yes, I see. No, I do not consider a charge for overnight accommodation unreasonable. Yes, I am aware there is a war on, I was discharged from a military hospital two days ago. Thank you, that will be satisfactory." He replaced the phone. 

"Are they always like that?" he enquiried. "I will not have Ray treated like an organ grinder's monkey! Either he goes first class or not at all!"

"You'll do," said the doctor. "People do not seem to realise that playing a full concert programme is almost as tiring as swimming the Channel. Left to himself Ray would just curl up in a corner of the waiting room. You must put a stop to that if you decide to take the position."

Bodie smiled. "Let's say I'm seriously considering it."

oOo

Ray charged into the room. "Good, you're back. What did they say? Can we go to Plas?"

"Yes, I'm passed, subject to taking it easy, and I have to report again in a fortnight."

"I'll pack a bag for you," said Ray.

"You will not!" said Bodie. "I have seen the way you pack!"

oOo

"Caught anything?" asked Megan looking up from the sink.

Bodie opened his fishing basket. "Three decent sized ones."

"We'll have them for supper then. You're looking a lot better, William. Now go and rescue Ray from the children, he's been trying to practise."

Bodie went into the drawing room. Doyle was running through some exercises, watched closely by a beady-eyed child.

"Good thing you sent the Grand down here, Bodie," Doyle remarked. "Those kids at Hellens would have ruined it. It's still not quite in tune, the bug - "

"Ray!" Bodie said warningly, as the small child listened, all ears.

"Sian!" called Megan from the kitchen. The child left, then Tom walked in.

"Ray's great," he announced to Bodie. "He can play all the latest tunes, you just have to whistle them to him." He left.

Doyle looked up with a harassed expression. "If I get asked to play 'Reflections on the Water' one more time," he said, "I'll - "

"I don't know that one," mused Bodie. "How does it go?"

Doyle started to play it, before he realised and stopped. "Bodie! You rotten sod!"

"Dr Scarsdale was asking me if I'd like to take over as your Manager. How would you feel about it?"

"What about the army?" asked Doyle. "It's been your life for so long. You could find managing me very boring."

"I doubt that! But the times are changing, it won't be my sort of army much longer. It's obvious that India will go her own way, all the signs are there. I will have done twenty years service next year. I would like to stay on in the Reserve, that way I can keep in touch, but it could be a fresh start for me, and we can be together properly at last. But how would you feel about it?"

Doyle smiled at him. "I'd be delighted. But on one condition."

"Which is?" asked Bodie suspiciously.

"You get those sketches and notes of yours out and start working them up into a book. I'm not having you sitting about backstage doing nothing while I'm slaving away!"

"But, Ray... Very well, it's a deal."

"Good!" said Ray, sweeping into 'The Blue Danube'. "I never did get to Vienna, you can fix me up a concert there sometime."

"It will go on the agenda," said Bodie.

He picked up Doyle's engagement book from the top of the piano and glanced through Dr Scarsdale's neat handwriting, combined with Doyle's scribbled extra entries. He studied it a while.

"Ray, have you any idea how many engagements you have in the next month?"

"Hmm, no," said Doyle vaguely, going on playing. "But, some are only short recitals, nothing I can't fit in," he said defensively.

"Even you might find it hard to play in London and York on the same day," said Bodie.

"Oh, well, ask one or the other to move up or down, they're both good causes."

Bodie sighed and went into the kitchen. "Megan, have you got a spare exercise book, or something?" he asked.

"Yes, here you are. What's the matter?" she asked, watching him frowning over the book.

"Ray! He's been running rings around Dr Scarsdale, taking on extra concerts off his own bat. I'm going to be his new manager, so he can put a stop to that!"

Megan nodded approvingly. "You'll be very good for him, be able to see he doesn't take on too much and that he eats properly."

"Yes, I think so too. Now I have to get our home back from the military. I hope they haven't left it a complete shambles. I made some enquiries, it'll take about six months they said. It will probably all need redecorating. I spoke to the officer in charge - he's a nice lad, Canadian - who said he'd pruned the apple trees for us, they needed it badly and he enjoyed doing it, his family have orchards back home in British Colombia. He even gave me an invitation to visit. So, as soon as they move out we can think about getting the furniture out of store."

"Harry, the children and I could come over and help you move in when you're ready," said Megan. "If he's on leave, that is. We would enjoy doing it, the children love Hellens, they've missed going there. What's all the calling about?"

"It's over," shouted Ray, as they went into the drawing room. "Just been on the news...they say they will tell us more later. The War is over."

There was a silence then they were all hugging each other.

Megan wiped her eyes. "William, there's a bottle in that cupboard, Harry said when we heard definitely, whoever was here, we were to have it and pour one for him as well."

The phone rang. Megan picked it up and a short, excited conversation in Welsh followed. She put the phone down. "They will be ringing the bells soon and everyone is putting their flag out. That was Mrs Thomas, the church, saying they are having a party for the children at the end of the week. Her son is in a prisoner-of-war camp."

The phone went again.

Bodie nudged Ray. "Come on, let's go and give 'em a hand with the bells and whatever else..."

oOo

Eight months later...

"Well," said Bodie, looking with annoyance at his bullet-pocked ceiling at Hellens. "If George Patton did do that, he can't spell his own name..."

"What do you expect from a West Point man," said Harry, carefully plastering his portion of the ceiling. "What I want to know is, why isn't Ray up here with us too? I'm getting vertigo."

"His bad leg," said Bodie, pausing to wipe a drop from his face. "Besides he's gone for the milk."

Harry snorted. "His bad leg didn't stop him from trying to show our Tom how to dribble like Stanley Matthews all over the lawn yesterday, did it? God, I could do with a cup of... Tea! Megan!" he roared.

"You'll have to wait till the milk comes!" she yelled back. "Oh, good, here they are."

A babble of voices drew nearer, then Ray and a gaggle of young Pritchards burst into the room, Megan hurriedly took the milk.

"Ray has a kitten," said Muffy excitedly. "He's got white feet and he's black all over and we are calling him Money."

"If he stays," said Bodie, looking down sternly, "he will be called Wavell."

Doyle, totally unconcerned, extracted a tiny black and white kitten from under his jacket. It looked up at Bodie, mewing hopefully.

Bodie looked down unmoved. "I see Mrs Pots is still passing out kittens," he remarked.

"Yes," said Doyle. "She said she would mind him when we go on tour."

"I'm happy about that," said Bodie. "But what's all this 'on tour'. Have you been near that 'phone again?"

"I'll tell you later," Doyle said vaguely. "Good! Tea." He looked about him. "You haven't got very far have you," he said.

oOo

Bodie sprawled on the sofa; his head in a book, stretching contentedly.

"Someone's going to have to get that kitten down from that top shelf," said Harry. "Hurry up, gal," he added to his better half, who was agonizing over which card to discard from her hand. She told him what to do in Welsh.

The phone rang. Bodie sighed and got up to answer it. "Kingship 57. No. Mr Doyle is out at the moment, can I help?" His expression froze. Harry watched with interest as Bodie reached for Doyle's engagement book and riffled through the pages.

"Yes, I see. No, that will not be a problem, I would have had to call and cancel that date anyway as Mr Doyle has a previous commitment which was overlooked. Yes, I am his manager. And the new date?" He checked the book further on. "Yes, that would be satisfactory. Just a moment..." he put his hand over the receiver. "AA Guide, Harry!" 

Harry tossed it over. 

"Now, about overnight accommodation and the fee... At the Grand, yes, that would be satisfactory. Good, I'll write and confirm that date."

"You did that to the manner born, boy," said Harry. "You're going to be a success."

"If I don't strangle Ray first," said Bodie. "I think I'll go and have a word with him."

"Pity we can't get him to run our little undertaking too," said Harry, watching Bodie leave. "Still, he'll have his hands full with Ray. Come on now, cariad, make up your mind."

 

Bodie found his quarry looking over the field gate; he looked about him. It was a very pleasant evening, he decided, slipping an arm round Ray's shoulder.

"Came out looking for me, did you?" asked Ray. "Everyone all right inside?"

"Yes, Megan and Harry are quarreling over the cribbage board and Wavell won't come down from the library top shelf."

"You could climb up and get him down," said Ray.

"What, with my wound?" said Bodie. "He got up there, he can work out how to get down, it's character building for him. Which reminds me - you're going to have to make a phone call tomorrow."

Doyle pulled a face. "Oh hell, who too?"

"Only Sir Thomas to tell him you can't play in the concert on the 18th of March as you have a new commitment to play at Derby Town Hall that night."

There was a horrified silence.

"Oh God, Bodie. I forgot! He'll crucify me!"

"Most probably," said Bodie. "Not a thing I'd like to do - to tell him.'' He looked at Doyle's anguished face and relented. "It's all right. I've canceled Derby and arranged a new date for them. Let that be a lesson to you, my lad. And keep off that bloody 'phone!"

"Bodie! You rotten lousy sod! I nearly had bloody kittens. You ... you.." Doyle paused for breath.

"Yes, I'm all of that," Bodie agreed placidly. "No chance of a cuddle now, I suppose. Better go back in." He turned away.

"Bodie, you get right back here! Everything is all right now?"

"Yes, you hadn't fixed your overnight accommodation either, what were you planning to do, sleep on the luggage rack?" Bodie grinned.

"Expect so. All right. I'll reform. Come here, while we've got a moment to ourselves." There was a silence for a while.

"Don't reform too much will you?" said Bodie. "I'd miss the old Ray, I'm used to having him around."

"Be hard to reform at all," said Doyle. "By the way, Harry was telling me he's thinking of throwing Plas open to the public. We can help them with it when they are finished here. It'll give Megan something to do while he's in Germany he says. Did you know Queen Elizabeth slept there?"

"Like hell she did!" said Bodie. "Never got to within two hundred miles of the place! Planning to have his children on every doorway in witch hats selling rock is he?"

"Probably," grinned Ray. "Come on, it'll be fun. You would make a super guide, you sound so convincing. I can just see you telling the tale about how she met her fella there."

"I suppose we could work up something interesting, there's the old family ghost story..."

Ray gave a delighted shudder. "Go on, tell me."

"Well," Bodie began, as they started to walk back to the house arm in arm. "They do say that every 21st of June, when the moon is full, there is this sound, like a horse galloping very fast. The ..."

The sound of their voices died away as they walked back to their home.

 

END


End file.
